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BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 









With the word “ John ” on my lips I faced the door 


BEATRICE 

OF DENEWOOD 


A SEQUEL TO “ THE LUCKY SIXPENCE " 


BY 

EMILIE BENSON KNIPE 

AND 

ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

C. M. RELYEA 



NEW YORK 
THE CENTURY CO. 
1913 



Copyright, 1913, by 
The Century Co. 


Published , September , igij 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

i Bart Finds a Hessian 3 

11 Pirate Gold 26 

hi A Mysterious Magus 40 

iv I Dig for Treasure 60 

v I Find a Tin Tea-Caddy 74 

vi Base Metal 89 

vii A-Top the Garden Wall 109 

viii The Magus and His Map 124 

ix A Ball for Loyal Ladies . . . . . . 140 

x I Meet an Old Enemy 154 

xi News From England 177 

xii A Rude Welcome 194 

xiii A Company of Fine Gentlemen . . .215 

xiv Poetry and Pistols 231 

xv At the Towers 249 

xvi Sir Joshua Paints a Portrait .... 273 

xvii Mummer Brings Bad News 285 

xviii Back to Denewood 297 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

xix His Excellency and Madame Washing- 

ton 318 

xx A Broken Bargain 337 

xxi His Lordship, Charles Cornwallis . . 357 

xxii The Surrender of Yorktown .... 371 

xxiii The Magus Laughs 395 

xxiv Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! 417 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


With the word “John” on my lips I faced 

the door Frontispiece 


PAGE 

“Oh, brother !” I cried, “ ’tis fine to have you home 

again !” 1 1 

“I know where there ’s a pirate’s treasure !” he whis- 
pered 23 

Slowly he began to move across the open space . . 65 

All three of us turned 105 

I noted that they were much of the same build . . 13 1 

“Now if there ’s a prettier pair at the ball I ’d like to 


see them!” 157^ 

I saw Polly and Betty as I passed them in the dance 165 

I turned to take a last look at Denewood .... 203 

“See, Your Ladyship, how I am undone,” he cried 239 

“Faith, you ’ve grown finely and will be a credit to 

the family, after all,” he said 255 

I talked much to the captain about Jack’s disap- 

pearance 300 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

He began to wave frantically to another boat . . 327 

Here is a safe conduct for you and this young man 379 

“The map is there! There !” 41 i v 

He leaned half across the table putting his hand sig- 
nificantly on the pistol . . , . . . .431 


BEATRICE 
OF DENEWOOD 































































































































































































































BEATRICE 
OF DENEWOOD 


CHAPTER I 

BART FINDS A HESSIAN 

“^npVHERE now/’ exclaimed Mrs. Mummer, my 
X cousin John Travers’s housekeeper, as she 
straightened up and regarded the huge brass 
andirons with pride. “I ’ve polished and rubbed 
them till my back aches, but it ’s worth it, to see 
Denewood beginning to look like itself again.” 

I stepped down from the chair upon which I had 
been standing while I gave a finishing touch to 
the mirror, and glanced about the great hall with 
much pleasure and satisfaction. A week before, 
the news of the battle of Monmouth had reached 
us and, feeling assured that the British army had 
left Philadelphia for good, the entire household 
had been busy putting things to rights. We 
wanted the place to look particularly fine against 
3 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

the arrival of its owner who was expected back 
at any time, and with Mummer, the steward of 
the estate, to drive the blacks out of doors, while 
Mrs. Mummer saw to it that all inside the house 
worked their hardest, we had accomplished won- 
ders. Even Polly and Betty Travers, cousins to 
Mr. Travers, did their share, and little Peggy, 
their sister, wished to sleep with a duster clutched 
in her fist to be ready on the morrow. 

“ ’T is Mummer we have to thank that there 
is aught left,” Mrs. Mummer went on. “ ’T was 
his foresight that bade me hide all that was worth 
stealing before we laid eyes on a bloody-back.” 

“How did M-m-m-mummer k-know the B-brit- 
ish were s-s-such thieves ?” stuttered Peggy, look- 
ing like a small sprite, as she popped her head 
from behind a stuffed chair she had been brush- 
ing. 

“Was n’t Mummer a soldier himself before he 
came to the Americas?” demanded Mrs. Mum- 
mer, bristling. “He knows soldiers right enough, 
does Mummer; though in sooth it was not the 
lobsters he was thinking of, so much as the Hes- 
sians. Their very music says 'plunder ! plunder ! 
plunder F in good plain English. Ah, Miss Bee, 
4 


BART FINDS A HESSIAN 

if you had been to town and seen the mess they ’ve 
made of it !” and she held up her hands to express 
her horror. 

“D-d-did they s-s-steal the State House ?” asked 
Peg with a little giggle. 

Mrs. Mummer made a good-natured flap at her 
with the duster. “Nay, little mischief/ ” she de- 
clared, “ ’t is still there. ’T was the dirt that 
’mazed me. Such filth and flies !” She stopped, 
lacking words to express her disgust. 

“I ’ll warrant you would like to take a besom 
to the whole city,” I laughed. 

“Aye, that I would,” she agreed, “and ’t is a 
task that must be done or there will be sickness 
ere long. I am right glad we are in Germantown 
instead of in Philadelphia.” 

Sam and Tom, two of the black house-servants, 
came in bearing the Turkey carpet to cover the 
center of the hall floor, and in a minute we were 
all busy again, pulling the corners this way and 
that till it was settled to our satisfaction. 

It was the end of our task. The house was 
in order, and we stood regarding it a moment in 
silence. 

“Now it is as it was the first day I came to 

5 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


Denewood,” I said half-aloud, for in truth I 
was thinking rather than talking. 

“A lucky day for the house, that,” declared 
Mrs. Mummer. “Ah, Miss Beatrice, how well I 
remember it ! For weeks we had been waiting for 
a sight of the boy who was to come out of Eng- 
land and la ! the boy turned out to be a girl. 'You 
have only to know her to love her/ says Master 
John, and ’t was a true word he spoke, my 
dear.” 

“And that was only two years ago,” I said, my 
thoughts still dwelling on the past; “only two 
years — and yet it seems as if I ’d been here al- 
ways.” 

“True enough,” agreed Mrs. Mummer, “but 
such long years they Ve been ! What with sol- 
diers coming and going, and Master John hurt, 
and the battle of Germantown right over our 
heads, ’t was no very pleasant welcome to a new 
land, for a little maid; but let us pray that the 
war is ended as they say. Are you never wishful 
to be back in England, Miss Bee?” she added with 
a note of anxiety in her voice. 

“Never! Never! Never!” I cried, putting my 
arms about her, for Mrs. Mummer was like a 
6 


BART FINDS A HESSIAN 


mother to me. “Denewood is my home and I 
want no other.” 

“Praise be for that!” answered the old house- 
keeper heartily. “Mummer has said a dozen 
times that although you and Master John but 
call each other brother and sister and are, in truth, 
only distant cousins, no real brother and sister 
could be closer the one to the other. ’T is a mis- 
fortune that so young a man should lack near 
kin, for 'blood is thicker than water/ Mummer 
says; and while he and I did our best, we were 
only dried-up old servants after all. So, though 
you were but a slip of a maid of twelve when you 
came to us, you brought the sunshine we needed 
to make a home of Denewood. You are the luck 
of the house, my dear. ’T is good to know you 
have no longing to go back to England.” 

“ ’T would be most ungrateful if I had, seeing 
all that Brother John has done for me,” I re- 
plied. 

“Nay, now,” she answered, bristling a little, 
“the shoe is on the other foot, I ’m thinking, for 
without you and your lucky sixpence Denewood 
would be ashes this day ; so a truce to all this talk 
of gratitude, ’twixt you and Master John.” 

7 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


It was all very well for Mrs. Mummer thus to 
dismiss the question of obligation between Cousin 
John Travers and myself, and such a thought 
would never enter his head either, but, never- 
theless, all in that house were his guests, and I 
in particular owed him more than ever I could 
pay. 

I was but a distant cousin and belonged to the 
English branch of the Travers family, having 
but small claim upon Brother John’s generosity; 
yet, when two years before Granny, from lack 
of money to keep my two brothers and myself, 
was forced to send me to the Americas, John 
Travers had adopted me for a sister and placed 
me at the head of his household. Mrs. Mum- 
mer might say there should be no talk of grati- 
tude between us, but I could not forget the kind- 
ness with which he had welcomed a forlorn little 
maid, and my heart overflowed with thankfulness 
that I had found so true a friend. 

Some such thoughts as these were passing 
through my mind when they were interrupted by 
a shout from Peg, who was standing by the win- 
dow. 

“They ’ve c-c-come ! They ’ve c-c-come !” she 

8 


BART FINDS A HESSIAN 


cried, and we heard the sounds of horses’ hoofs 
beating the ground outside. 

Goodness! what a clatter we made as we has- 
tened to welcome the new arrivals. Polly and 
Betty came down the stairs in a rush. Little 
Peg ran to hide her duster, and Mrs. Mummer 
and I took one last glance about, to see that all 
was as it should be, before we hurried to the front 
door. Outside, with cries of joy, the stable boys 
scampered up to take the horses, and Mummer 
himself, with three or four of the farm hands, ap- 
peared, to give the master a welcome. 

Two horsemen came galloping up the long 
driveway: in front, Cousin John Travers on a 
strong chestnut mare, and a little behind him 
Bart Travers, brother to Polly, Betty and Peg, 
putting his beast through its capers and showing 
off grandly before us all; for Bart was but a few 
months older than I, though he had run off to the 
war. Along they came at a smart pace, pulled 
up to a standstill, and in another minute John 
had dismounted and I was in his arms. 

“Oh, brother !” I cried, “ ’t is fine to have you 
home again !” 

“And ’tis fine to be home, little sister!” he 

9 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


answered, kissing me and giving me a loving pat 
on the shoulder. 

Meanwhile Peggy had run to Bart and the air 
was full of calls of welcome and questions flying 
back and forth as to how all fared. 

Presently we all moved to enter the house, and 
as Brother John reached the threshold he stopped 
amazed. Then turning to Mrs. Mummer he 
shook a finger at her. 

“ ’T is magic !” he cried. “ ’T is well for you 
we are past the age of such superstitions, for oth- 
erwise you were like to be burned for a witch.” 

“Nay, then, we should need a huge fire, for all 
of us have had a hand in the magic — though T is 
Miss Bee who kept us slaving till it was finished,” 
replied Mrs. Mummer with a laugh. 

“But how have you done it?” he went on, his 
glance roving about the hall and lighting up as he 
noted one after another, the old familiar objects 
of furniture and ornament that had been hidden 
away from sight so that they might not tempt 
the Hessian soldiers. “There are the little Dres- 
den figures on the mantel shelf just as they used 
to be and there is the old clock and — and the 
Turkey carpet! In truth I never hoped to see 
io 



Oh, brother!” I cried, “ ’t is fine to have you home again ! 





BART FINDS A HESSIAN 

all these things again, for I have passed places 
to-day where there was scarce one article of 
household use left to the owners !” 

“For that you must thank Miss Bee and her 
lucky sixpence,” said Mrs. Mummer with a nod. 

“Aye, we ’ll never forget that !” answered 
Brother John warmly. “ ’T is when I see how 
others have suffered that I realize our good 
fortune. The country about us is in a sad case. 
Houses that I knew well have disappeared, with 
but a few charred stones left to mark their sites. 
Others are half-burned ; some torn down in sheer 
wantonness or perchance for firewood, and every- 
where ruin and poverty is the portion of Whig 
and Tory alike. I am filled with wonder that we 
escaped.” 

“Aye,” cried Bart, striding about, with his 
great sword clanking as he moved. “This is all 
very well, but ’t is the dining-room and its furnish- 
ings I ’m most interested in. I ’m fair starved, 
Mrs. Mummer, and that ’s the truth.” 

“ ’T is but a poor meal I can give you,” said 
Mrs. Mummer, amid the laughter that followed 
Bart’s sally, “but such as it is, — you have only to 
sit down, for all is ready.” 

13 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“Aye, I know your poor meals,” cried Brother 
John, as we went into the dining-room. “I shall 
let out my belt two holes at least in anticipation.” 

And so, gaily and happily, we sat down to eat 
the first dinner we had all had together in peace 
and quiet for many a long day. 

When the excitement had worn off a little, we 
began to ask questions of how our friends in 
the Continental army fared, and little Peg wanted 
particularly to have news of Allan McLane, who 
was captain of the troop of cavalry in which John 
served and a great favorite with us all. Then 
we asked for his Excellency, General Washing- 
ton, and for the Marquis de Lafayette, news of 
whom made Polly and Betty prick up their ears, 
and for a host of others who at one time or an- 
other had stayed at Denewood during the dread- 
ful winter just passed, when the army was 
freezing at Valley Forge and the British held 
Philadelphia. 

“I s-s-say, B-b-bart,” piped Peggy, in one of 
the pauses in the talk, “w-w-what w-will you 
d-d-do with your s-s-sword, now that the r-r-ras- 
cally B-b-british have g-g-gone and the w-w-war 
is over ?” 


14 


BART FINDS A HESSIAN 


“Ah, but it is n't over," answered Bart. 

“Not over?" I echoed in consternation, looking 
at Brother John. “Has n't the war ended?" 

“Nay, Bee," he answered, “not yet, nor for 
many a long day, I fear." 

“But every one says the British are going 
home," I insisted, for it was generally believed 
that the evacuation of Philadelphia was the be- 
ginning of the end. 

“The wish is father to the thought in those who 
have spread that rumor," answered Brother 
John. “The British will scarce try their luck 
again in Philadelphia; but, for all that, the war 
is far from ended. General Clinton has but 
changed his base to New York." 

“Should he do that often he will have no army 
left," Bart put in with a chuckle. “His expensive 
Hessians are still straggling over the Jerseys to 
us — and did n't we give them fits at Monmouth !" 

Later, the dinner being finished, Mummer 
thrust his long, solemn face within the room and 
begged that John would go over the estate with 
him so that he might make ready his plans to 
repair the damage wrought by the soldiers. 
There was a new stable to be built, miles of fence 
15 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


were to be put up to replace those burned for fuel, 
and many other things were needed ; for, outside, 
the place had not escaped so fortunately as the 
mansion itself. 

Brother John went off with him, leaving us still 
at the table where we at once began to ply Bart 
with questions as to his doings with the Con- 
tinental army. 

“Nay!” cried Polly with a toss of her head. 
“I do not care to hear of Bart’s bloody deeds. 
’T is scarce fitting the ears of a sensitive female,” 
and she got up and quitted the room, followed 
by Betty, for the two always acted in concert. 
Truth to tell, Polly, who was a few years older 
than the rest of us, put on such grown-up airs 
that we were often glad to be rid of her, for she 
and Betty seemed interested only in the fashions 
and talked of beaux and balls as if naught else ill 
the world was of any consequence. 

“A good riddance,” said Bart, as they disap- 
peared, “but I think their ears would not be so 
‘sensitive’ if the news was of British victories. 
They are naught but silly Tories.” 

“And were you at Monmouth, Bart?” I asked, 
for it seemed scarce credible that a boy should 
16 


BART FINDS A HESSIAN 

have taken part in so bloody a battle as that one 
was rumored to have been. 

“Aye, that I was, Bee,” he answered proudly. 

I think father did n’t like the notion altogether ; 
but I told him I would run away alone again, so 
he let me go with him.” 

“And are you a p-p-private, Bart?” asked Peg, 
a little breathlessly. 

“Nay; I ’m not a private,” he replied. 

“Then you must be an officer,” I said. 

“Nay, I ’m not an officer, either — though I 
mean to have a commission soon,” he went on. 
“I ’m just a sort of aide to father, and, though 
some of the officers laugh at me, I have all the 
fun of fighting, just the same.” 

“T-tell us about the b-b-b-battle, B-bart,” Peg 
demanded excitedly. 

“Well,” Bart began, “we were with General 
Wayne. Wayne the Drover’ the army called 
him at Valley Forge, because, when worst came 
to worst, and we were near to starving, he always 
went off somewhere and brought in a herd of 
cattle to feed us. His own men call him ‘Mad 
Anthony’ because he loves to fight and stops at 
nothing; but his whole command is mad as far 
1 7 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


as that goes. Now as I said, we were with 
Wayne — but let me show you how it was.” 

“Yes, do, Bart,” I entreated, and Peggy and 
I leaned half across the table as he told the story 
of the battle of Monmouth. 

He cleared a space in front of him. 

“Now this plum-cake platter is Monmouth 
Courthouse,” he began, arranging the things be- 
fore him to represent the two armies and their 
positions. “And the fold in the table-cloth we ’ll 
call the road leading to Sandy Hook where Clin- 
ton wanted to get, ’way up by this coffee cup. 
We were about here and he placed an apricot 
to mark the place. “Over there, where the 
sauce-boat stands, was Knyphausen protecting 
Clinton’s eight miles of baggage wagons — which 
we should have captured had it not been for 
Charles Lee, the traitor!” 

“G-g-go on, B-b-bart,” cried Peggy, her chin 
in her hands gazing down intently, and hardly 
able to keep still. “G-g-go on with the f-f-fight- 
ing.” 

“Don’t be so impatient,” Bart admonished, 
placing a salt-cellar near the fold that marked 
the road. “This is where Lafayette and Green 
18 


BART FINDS A HESSIAN 

were stationed, and ’way back here by this bowl 
was Washington with the main army.” 

He stopped, regarding his diagram critically 
and with a most serious air. 

“Now, right in here the road narrowed down 
between wide swamps, one on each side, which 
we ’ll mark with this saucer and the fruit-dish, 
and just where I put this knife there was a 
bridge. Don’t forget that, because it ’s impor- 
tant. And on this spot where the spoon is, was 
a big tree, and that ’s important too, as you ’ll see 
later on. 

“Well, early in the morning we had orders to 
attack, and off we went crossing the bridge be- 
tween the saucer and the fruit-dish, as gay as 
could be, all of us anxious to fight the redcoats, 
though it was hot even before the sun was well 
up. We sighted them, and we are just about to 
attack, when along comes a message from Lee 
to withdraw. Wayne was in a rage, but he 
could n’t do anything else ; so back we went with- 
out a blow. Then along comes another order to 
make a feint and we go off again, only to be 
withdrawn once more, till we did n’t know what 
was happening and the men thought some one 
19 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


was going crazy — and I tell you, General Wayne 
was near crazy, — but that was because Lee 
would n't let him fight.” 

“Why didn’t he fight, anyhow?” I demanded. 

“Oh, he could n’t, you know,” Bart explained. 
“Lee was in command of the whole force and 
Wayne had to do as he was ordered, whether he 
liked it or not.” 

“I would have f-f-fighted !” declared Peggy 
positively. 

“Pretty soon we had to fight,” her brother 
went on, “for the first thing we knew the British 
came running across the knife there — I mean the 
bridge — and were attacking us instead of our 
attacking them, — and that ’s a very different mat- 
ter, let me tell you! The redcoats came with a 
rush, and our fellows, not knowing what to do 
and bewildered by such contrary orders, were 
taken by surprise and — and they ran. Yes, they 
ran, though I hate to say it. I was with father, 
who with Stewart and Ramsey were trying to 
rally them. Down the fold we went and came 
up with Lee, who was sitting his horse like a 
spectator, doing nothing, and I thought it was all 
up with us, when along came a man on horseback 
20 


BART FINDS A HESSIAN 

riding like the wind. Oh, you should have seen 
him and heard the shouts that went up when we 
knew that it was his Excellency, General 
Washington! He is a man!” exclaimed Bart, 
almost at the top of his voice, and Peggy and I 
gave a little cheer as if we had been there our- 
selves. 

'' 'What ’s the meaning of this V cried Washing- 
ton, as he reined up beside Lee,” Bart continued. 
"And Lee mumbled something in answer. Then 
the General just told him what he thought of him. 
'You ’re a poltroon, sir!’ he shouted, and more of 
the same sort of talk, while Lee got red in the 
face but could n’t stand that storm. Oh, the Gen- 
eral was fine and angry, and had I been in Lee’s 
place I should have died of shame. As it was 
he went off to the rear, and Washington took 
command of us. It was mighty different then. 
The redcoats were running across that knife, bent 
on mischief and meaning to drive us back to the 
bowl, but we rallied in the face of them and the 
General, with his sword lifted high above his 
head and greatly exposing himself, led us at 
them, and before we knew it they were being 
driven back between the saucer and the fruit- 


21 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

dish and then across the knife into the sauce- 
boat where Knyphausen was. 

“I tell you, Bee!” cried Bart, firing up at the 
thought, “it was almost worth while to retreat 
in order to see what one man could do! There 
was swamp on each side of the road and eight 
thousand British were chasing us, but Washing- 
ton re-formed two of our regiments under fire, 
and that gave time to plant the troops he had 
brought up with him on good ground. But it 
was a close thing, so close that Alexander Hamil- 
ton said his only thought was to die on the spot, 
and even Laurens hoped for no more than an 
orderly retreat. But Washington — well, for all 
his calm ways he is as mad as Wayne himself 
when it comes to fighting, and when he leads, 
the men will follow, caring naught what happens 
to them !” 

Bart stopped, out of breath. 

“And you b-b-beat them, B-b-bart?” asked 
Peggy excitedly. 

“Aye, we beat them,” Bart continued. “They 
made a stand at the sauce-boat, but only for a 
little while ; and still we drove them on. All day 
we fought, and wh*en at last night came, they 
22 


I know where there ’s a pirate’s treasure! he whispered 




/ 




BART FINDS A HESSIAN 

were ready to cry quits. ’T was only the dark- 
ness that saved Clinton’s whole army, for we 
found them gone the next morning. If Lee 
had n’t played the traitor they would never have 
reached the coffee-cup, I mean Sandy Hook, of 
course. Oh, it was splendid — but very hot.” 

“B-b-but B-bart,” Peggy broke in, after a 
moment’s pause, “you have n’t told us about the 
spoon that ’s a t-t-tree.” 

“Hush,” murmured Bart warningly. “That ’s 
where I found my Hessian,” and he looked about 
the room to see if any one were within hearing. 

“Your Hessian?” I echoed, not knowing what 
he meant. 

“It ’s a secret,” he answered. “Let ’s go out 
somewhere under the trees where we ’ll be alone. 
Listen !” 

He leaned across the table and we three put 
our heads together. 

“I know where there ’s a pirate’s treasure,” he 
whispered. 


25 


CHAPTER II 


PIRATE GOLD 

B ART was so mysterious that without an- 
other word we all three went out of doors 
on tiptoe as if we feared to make a noise. We 
scampered through the orchard near the house 
and into the woods bordering it and were soon 
hidden among the trees, certain that no one 
would hear our secrets there. 

‘This will do,” said Bart, seating himself at 
the foot of a huge chestnut, and Peggy and I 
dropped down beside him. 

“Hurry and t-t-tell us, B-bart,” cried his sis- 
ter, impatiently; “I 1-1-love m-m-mysteries.” 

“This is no joke,” replied Bart, very seriously, 
“and I misdoubt I have made a mistake in letting 
you know anything about it. It popped out 
without my thinking.” 

“Oh, you need n’t worry about Peggy, Bart,” 
I hastened to put in. “She can be as secret as 
any one. She ’s proved that.” 

26 


PIRATE GOLD 

“B-b-besides you c-c-could n’t keep it from me, 
a-a-anyway,” said Miss Peggy, with a toss of 
her head, “I always know.” 

“Remember, then, not a word of this to a 
soul/’ insisted Bart, and it was plain from his 
manner that, whatever he had to tell us, he at- 
tached much importance to it. “I don’t want 
any one else to get hold of it, least of all Polly 
and Betty.” 

“You need have no f-f-fear,” answered Peggy, 
turning up her snip of a nose disdainfully; 
“they ’re much too m-m-moderate for my t-t- 
taste.” 

At which Bart and I burst out into peals of 
laughter. 

“Know you a stauncher patriot, Bart?” I 
asked, hugging Peggy, for she was ever a little 
hurt when laughed at. “On with your tale, for 
you must e’en trust her.” 

“To begin with,” Bart said, “we found that 
Clinton had gone off leaving behind his dead 
and wounded for us to care for, and I was sent 
out with some others to look for the injured. 
Now, along in the afternoon, as I was return- 
ing to headquarters, I was passing that tree that 
27 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


I marked by a spoon on the table, when I heard 
a great groan. At first I saw nothing, but, upon 
going around the trunk, I found a Hessian sol- 
dier propped up against it. He had a bullet in 
his leg and he thought he was going to die, right 
then and there. When he saw me he began to 
chatter in broken English begging me not to 
scalp him.” 

“ What nonsense,” I cried; “as if we were In- 
dians !” 

“Oh, he believed it,” Bart explained. “He 
had been told tales of torture and I know not 
what else about us, to keep him and his country- 
men from deserting. The British had to do 
something ; for you know the Hessians have been 
offered grants of land if they desert, and scores 
of them have been coming in with their pots and 
kettles and wives, all ready to set up housekeep- 
ing. ? T was no easy matter to get word to them 
until Doctor Franklin hit upon the plan of hav- 
ing the offer printed in German and stowed in 
packages of strong tobacco such as soldiers 
smoke. — At any rate Hans Kalbfleisch, my 
wounded Hessian, was dreadfully frightened; 
28 


PIRATE GOLD 


but I got him into camp and the surgeons cut off 
his leg, so that he was as well as ever.” 

“That ’s n-no m-m-mystery,” Peg broke in dis- 
gustedly, as Bart paused for breath. 

“Nay, now, do not be so impatient,” retorted 
Bart. “I ’m coming to that in good time. When 
Hans was a little recovered from his hurt and 
found that he was not to be massacred, he was 
monstrous grateful to me, and now and then, 
when I had nothing else to do, I would stop and 
talk to him; for he was a decent sort of chap, 
though he was a Hessian. Well, one day when 
we were alone he asked me in his funny, broken 
English, if I knew old Schmuck, the magus in 
Philadelphia. You ’ve heard of old Schmuck, 
have n't you, Bee ?” 

“Never,” I answered, “and I have n’t the 
faintest idea what a magus is.” 

“Well, a magus,” Bart explained, “is a sort of 
diviner. A fellow who finds things that are hid- 
den under the ground, like treasure; but mostly 
they search for springs of water.” 

“How do they do it?” I asked, much puzzled. 

“With a hazel wand, usually,” Bart answered, 
29 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

“though some use a peach branch. Oh, ’t is true 
they can tell, Bee,” he insisted, no doubt seeing 
my look of incredulity; “and the farmers have a 
magus pick out the spot when they want to dig 
a well. He takes the hazel twig between the 
palms of his hands and walks slowly over the 
land till it bends down to the ground, and that 
is the spot to dig, whether it be for treasure or 
only for water.” 

“ ’T is very funny,” I said. “But go on with 
your Hessian; he’s interesting.” 

“I told him I had heard of old Schmuck,” Bart 
continued, “and expected something more about 
him, but he turned the conversation to the coun- 
try around Philadelphia and asked me, did I 
know of Wissahickon Creek. I told him I did, 
and he said he had a friend who had camped 
there for a while and that he himself had hoped 
to visit it, but that now he feared he would never 
see the place. It was plain that Hans had some- 
thing on his mind which he wanted, and yet 
did n’t want, to tell me. But at length, after he 
was convinced that it was useless to think of go- 
ing there himself, he took me into his confi- 
dence.” 


30 


PIRATE GOLD 


“N-n-now, it is c-c-oming,” whispered Peggy, 
wriggling with expectation. 

“Mind you/’ Bart continued, “this did n’t hap- 
pen all in a minute. It was, maybe, a day or two 
later that, after looking about to see that no one 
was within hearing, he drew me close to him 
and whispered: 

“ T have dreamed a dream three times, and to 
dream three times is sure.’ 

“‘What have you dreamed?’ I asked him, 
though I did n’t feel much interested. 

“ ‘ ’T is a dream of hidden gold and silver and 
much other wealth,’ he answered, his eyes gleam- 
ing covetously as he talked and his excitement 
growing, so that I understood less than half of 
what he said.” 

Bart paused a moment looking about to see 
that no one could overhear. 

“Why did the Hessian tell you about a 
dream?” I asked, with increasing interest. 

“Now you are just as impatient as Peg,” 
laughed Bart, “but to tell the truth, Bee, that ’s 
the very question I asked Hans. And then out 
came the whole of his plan. He wanted me to 
hunt for the treasure he had seen in his sleep.” 
3i 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“But — but — ” I began. 

“Hold on,” Bart interrupted, “let me tell you 
just how it was. At first I laughed at what he 
called his dream, but he was so earnest, that 
finally I really became convinced that in some 
way he knew of a hidden treasure, and I con- 
sented to make a search for it. 

“ ‘T is hid/ he told me, 'halfway between the 
tree blazed with the skull, where ’t was buried 
by the crooked man with one eye/ ” 

“Oh-o-o — ” came in a long drawl from Peg, 
“the c-c-crooked man with one e-eye ! It 
s-s-sounds awful!” 

“But halfway between the tree and what?” 
I asked, noting that the description was not com- 
plete. 

“That was what I wanted to know,” Bart went 
on, “and Hans said old Schmuck the magus 
could find the spot, when I told him it was on the 
right bank of the Wissahickon, north of the Rit- 
tenhouse Mill Road, and buried between the 
blazed tree with the crooked man with one eye.” 

“With the crooked man?” I exclaimed, aghast, 
“you said ‘by’ before.” 

“To tell the truth,” replied Bart, “I don’t know 
32 


PIRATE GOLD 

exactly whether it was ‘by/ or ‘with/ because his 
English was so queer. It might be ‘with’ you 
know. Pirates always killed a man and buried 
him with their treasure so that his shpook could 
guard it. ’T is well known that Kidd and Black- 
beard came up our rivers with their gold, and like 
as not Hans’ treasure is some such loot.” 

“Nay, Bart, ’t is a silly story,” I said with a 
laugh; “your Hessian was quizzing you.” 

“Aye, Bee, that was my very thought,” agreed 
Bart earnestly, by no means abashed at my doubt. 
“But, when I laughed and told Hans I would 
have none of his dreams, he was fair beside him- 
self and begged that I at least tell Schmuck. 
He protested that he wanted me to share the gold 
out of gratitude for my having saved him, and a 
lot more such talk, which I had no great faith 
in, for the end was always the same. ‘Tell 
Schmuck. Tell the magus/ was his plea, until I 
grew sure that there was a hidden treasure. 
’T is plain Hans would never have told me a word 
of it had he been fit to go himself; but, seeing 
no other way, he was forced to take some one 
into his confidence — and now I mean to find it.” 

“And what is he to get out of it if you do 

33 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

find anything ?” I asked, becoming as convinced 
as Bart, that there was something more in this 
tale than appeared on the surface. 

“Oh, he wanted half, of course,” Bart said 
easily; “but I told him flat that I would not take 
all the risk and all the trouble for so small a 
share. ’T is not as if I wanted it for myself. 
He grumbled mightily, but finally consented to 
leave the matter to me so long as I would tell the 
magus as quickly as possible.” 

“I can see no such need of haste if ’t was a 
dream he dreamed,” I suggested. 

“He insisted it was a dream to the very last,” 
Bart replied; “but he gave me a sly wink and 
said that others might dream too, and that there 
was no time to lose. I don’t believe all he told 
me, but I ’m sure he knows of a hidden treasure. 
He hints that it is a pirate’s hoard, and I mean 
to have a look for it. Pirate gold belongs to 
him who finds it, and I have no mind to see it in 
the hands of some Tory or moderate when the 
cause stands in need of money.” 

“Did Hans say that he had known the magus ?” 
I questioned. 

“No, he protested that he had never seen him,” 

34 


PIRATE GOLD 


Bart explained, “and I think he was telling the 
truth, though of course I can’t be sure.” 

“What do you mean to do?” I inquired. 

“To go with old Schmuck to seek the treasure, 
taking some one with me to help guard and 
carry it here, where we can find a place to stow 
it in safety until I see a way to transport it to 
his Excellency,” Bart answered succinctly. 

“Who will you get to go with you?” I asked. 
“John or Allan McLane will be best.” 

At this I fancied Bart looked a little embar- 
rassed, but when he spoke it was quite frankly. 

“Nay, Bee, I ’ll be honest with you,” he said. 
“If Jack or Captain McLane go, they are my su- 
perior officers and I get no credit out of the affair. 
General Washington needs money even more 
than he needs men and I am hot for my commis- 
sion ; so, if I pull this off for myself, I ’ll get it, 
you ’ll see, even despite my lack of years.” 

“Then whom can you ask to help you?” I de- 
manded, puzzled, and Bart looked straight in my 
eyes and said : 

“You, Bee!” 

“T-t-to be s-s-sure,” agreed Peggy, in the 
most matter-of-fact way, “and I ’ll h-h-help too.” 
35 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“No, no,” said Bart impatiently, “don't get that 
into your head. You could n't be of any use.” 

“I c-c-could s-s-so.” Peggy was very indig- 
nant. “I c-c-could k-k-keep the g-g-ghostses 
amused.” 

Whereat we had to laugh, to the lady's great 
disgust. 

“But will you go, Bee?” Bart was all eagerness 
and not to be diverted. “You 'd like to do some- 
thing for the cause, would n't you ?” 

“What are your plans ?” I asked cautiously. 

“Well, I shall see Schmuck first,” Bart began, 
but I interrupted: 

“Can't you get along without this Schmuck?” 

“No, I cannot,” answered Bart. “If I could I 
would, willingly enough; but 't is impossible for 
me to dig up the ground for a mile, it may be, 
around the blazed tree. The treasure may lie r 
yard away or it may not be within a hundred. 
That 's what the magus must determine, and 't is 
on that account I am forced to take him along.” 

“But you need n't tell him all you know,” I in- 
sisted, full of a vague distrust. “Only enough to 
get him interested without saying just where the 
spot is.” 


36 


PIRATE GOLD 

“Exactly,” agreed Bart. “All I ’ll say is that 
the treasure is on the right bank of the Wis- 
sahickon and that he must find the place, though 
my Hessian told me to tell him about the blazed 
tree and the crooked man.” 

“And then what?” I asked. 

“Then we 'll agree upon a night — !” 

“Night!” I exclaimed. “Must we go at 
night ?” 

“Why, of course, Bee,” he replied, surprised at 
my question. “Whoever heard of hunting treas- 
ure in the daytime ?” 

“To be sure, that ’s true,” I answered, admit- 
ting the force of this argument; “but Mrs. Mum- 
mer would never let me go.” 

“There ’s my m-m-mouse’s h-h-hole,” sug- 
gested Peg crossly; “You can g-g-go by that if 
^you w-w-want to.” 

“What’s that?” Bart was curious. 

“ ’T is a queer passageway she found down 
through the nursery chimney and out by the 
spring-house,” I explained. 

“Allan McLane w-w-went out by it o-o-once 
and he was s-s-so big that he n-n-nearly 
s-s-stuck,” Peg remarked, good-humored once 
37 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


more, her little tempers never enduring for long. 

“So you can go, Bee, if you only will,” Bart 
pleaded. 

“But of what use can I be to you?” I asked, 
helplessly. 

“You can help with the gold,” he replied, “and 
watch and see that old Schmuck does n’t bash me 
over the head when my back is turned. You 
could carry a pistol, could n’t you ? It need not 
be loaded. He would only need to see it.” 

“Aye, I could carry a pistol,” I said a little 
doubtfully, “but ’t would be better to take one of 
the black boys along.” 

“Nay, they would be frightened out of their 
wits,” Bart protested. 

“Not Charley,” I insisted. “Moreover, he is 
strong and could help with the digging. Please 
take Charley,” I ended pleadingly. 



“Will you go if I do?” he questioned eagerly, 


and I nodded in agreement. 

And so, swept off my feet by my wish to help 
Bart, by my desire to aid the cause, and not a 
little influenced, if it must be confessed, by the 
thought of the adventure itself, I found myself 
committed to the expedition. It is passing 


38 


PIRATE GOLD 


strange how matters turn out, and a wiser head 
than mine could not have foreseen how much de- 
pended on my answer to his pleading, but had I 
refused to go I might have been spared many, 
many weeks of anxiety, 


% 



i 


39 


CHAPTER III 


A 


A MYSTERIOUS MAGUS 

WEEK passed before Barfs plan for the 
treasure-hunt was matured, and in the 
meantime Brother John was detailed for special 
duty under General Arnold in Philadelphia. Al- 
though I was disappointed, because I had hoped 
he had come home for good, it was a comfort to 
know that he would be stationed so near to us 
and in no danger. His own company under Cap- 
tain McLane were with Washington and had 
John been there I should have been constantly 
anxious, for the men of that troop were ever 
on the outlook for danger, waiting not for it to 
come to them but rather going forth to find it 
with^a right good will. 

Brother John and I had long talks about Dene- 
wood and how we were to manage, for, although 
under ordinary circumstances there was more 
than enough money and John was a rich man, 
owning many ships, trade was at a standstill and 
40 


A MYSTERIOUS MAGUS 


what hard money he could find was given to 
Washington and the cause which came before all 
in his heart. So we were forced to plan and to 
contrive in many ways to feed the household and 
the slaves on the place ; and while, of course, Mrs. 
Mummer was first in these matters, certain re- 
sponsibilities were given to me and, in John’s ab- 
sence, mine was the final word though I took no 
advantage of that but looked to Mrs. Mummer to 
guide me in all things. 

Therefore I had, in a measure, lost sight of 
Bart’s treasure-hunt and one morning, when he 
tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, “ ’T is 
to-night,” I did not take his meaning. 

“I ’ve arranged it all with old Schmuck, the 
magus,” he added, and then I knew what he was 
talking about. 

“What did he say?” I asked eagerly. 

“He was n’t much for it at first,” Bart replied; 
“said he was engaged; but he soon came round. 
All he wanted was a larger fee.” 

“You didn’t tell him of the blazed tree?” I 
questioned. 

“Nay, not a word,” Bart answered. “We 
leave the house at eleven o’clock. That will give 
4i 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


us time to reach the creek before midnight ; I will 
have the horses ready in the lane back of the 
spring house.” 

I thought a good deal of our adventure through- 
out the rest of the day and questioned more than 
once whether it had been wise for me to agree 
to Bart’s schemes, but I could not have played the 
informer and gone to Brother John with it and 
I knew Bart well enough to be sure he would go 
alone, as he had said he might do, unless I ac- 
companied him. In this way I salved my con- 
science and looked forward eagerly to the quest. 

Since the British had left Philadelphia and we 
had no one quartered upon us, we had rear- 
ranged our sleeping quarters and I was back in 
my own chamber alone, while little Peg slept in 
a small room beside mine. We had n’t breathed 
a word to her of our plans and I was somewhat 
worried for fear she would insist, as she often 
did, on sharing my bed. But this night she 
brought a kitten up with her from the kitchens 
and said naught of sleeping with me. 

“Why have you brought the kitten?” I asked 
her as she prepared for bed. 

“To w-w-watch the m-m-mouse’s h-h-hole,” 
42 


A MYSTERIOUS MAGUS 

she answered, readily. “Mrs. M-m-mummer 
says ’t is good to begin training them y-y-young,” 
she went on, gravely, “and b-b-besides I g-grow 
tired of d-d-doing all the w-w-work myself.” 

“Go to bed, goosie,” I said; “some day you 
will see a mouse in that hole of yours and you ’ll 
be frightened out of your wits.” 

“Not if it ’s a m-m-mouse with two 1-1-legs,” 
she laughed back at me, and a few minutes later 
she was in bed and I had blown out the candle. 

In my own room I saw to it that my prepara- 
tions for the adventure were complete. I put 
out riding boots and hat, a cloak that came well 
down below my knees, and a pistol which Bart 
had given me. Then I tied up my hair in a queue 
and, as I looked at myself in the mirror, I thought 
it not unlikely that I might be mistaken for Bart’s 
brother. 

But when these arrangements were completed 
there was still a good two hours of waiting and 
I dared not lie down for fear of dropping off to 
sleep and so missing my engagement. I had not 
thought to bring a novel with me, so I had re- 
course to my little book of maxims in which had 
been set down all my doings and sayings since 
43 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


I was a small maid of six years. This book was 
one of my most cherished possessions and a close 
link between me and my old home in England. 
The covers were of silk, embroidered by dear old 
Granny herself, and many of the writings put 
down in it were in her neat hand. 

As I turned the pages idly, I could n’t help 
wondering how she liked living with her daugh- 
ter, Madam Van der Heist, in Amsterdam, a town 
which she despised. Poor old Granny! I loved 
her truly and wished she were in America with 
me, but she would have been quite as out of 
place with the “Barbarians,” as she styled those 
who dwell in the colonies, as in Amsterdam. 
Nay, Granny could only be happy when she was 
a grand dame again, sitting with other old ladies 
at the routs and drums in London, gossiping of 
the gay days at court in the time of the late 
King. 

But, though Granny loved her dish of gossip 
as well as another, she loved her orphaned grand- 
children more, and my brothers, Hal and Horrie, 
had shared with me all the luxuries her small 
means could afford so long as we lived in the old 
Dower House together. T was not her fault 
44 


A MYSTERIOUS MAGUS 

that we were forced to leave the only home we 
had known and seek shelter among strangers till 
Horrie should come into his inheritance upon the 
death of our cousin, Sir Horace Travers of Fro- 
bisham in Kent. T was not her fault that Mr. 
Van der Heist, her son-in-law, insisted that I 
be sent to the Americas, though it did seem as 
if my fate was to be a sad one. But oh! how 
differently it had turned out from my expecta- 
tions, and how truly welcome Cousin John had 
made me ! I indeed had found my fortune across 
great waters as a gypsy woman had foretold 
when I was but a babe and — and — 

I came to my senses with a guilty start, for I 
had been napping; and, jumping to my feet, I 
turned to the clock, fearing I had missed my meet- 
ing with Bart at eleven ; but *t was only ten. I 
tiptoed to Peg’s room and peeped in through the 
door. There she was, her black head showing 
sharply against the white pillow and the kitten 
fast asleep at the foot of the bed. I watched her 
a moment and returned to my chair with a sigh 
of envy. 

I closed my book of maxims with a snap. 
Clearly this thinking back over the past was no 
45 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


good way to keep awake. I must find another 
means to prop my eyes open. 

I picked up a copy of the Pennsylvania Even- 
ing Post and glanced at the news it contained. 

“A party of the American Light Horse pur- 
sued them” (the British), “and took a great num- 
ber of prisoners, some of whom were refugees. 
Soon after the evacuation Major General Arnold 
took possession of Philadelphia with Colonel Jack- 
son’s Massachusetts regiment.” 

A few weeks before that item had been most 
exciting because Brother John was with the Light 
Horse, but now it was stale news, though I clipped 
it out and have kept it because it was about John. 

Then, for want of better employment, I started 
to read the advertisements. 

“John Fisher, brush-maker near the gaol in 
Lancaster, has powder, shot and raisins for sale.” 

“ ’T would be a heavy cake if he should mis- 
take and sell shot for raisins,” I said to myself, 
smiling at such a funny combination of commodi- 
ties. Then I read: “Francis Gurney and Com- 
pany offer green and bohea teas, shalloons, lan- 
thorn-horns, ruffled shirts and snuff and tobacco 
in hogsheads.” 


46 


A MYSTERIOUS MAGUS 

Shalloons and ruffled shirts in hogsheads 
seemed monstrous comical things and I laughed 
aloud, but ’t was a sleepy laugh and had I been 
broader awake I think I should not have been so 
amused. 

A little way down the page I found another 
advertisement that interested me, which read as 
follows : 

“Ran away, on the night of August third last, from 
the subscriber, living in Coombes’s alley, a servant lad 
named Mark Powell, about fourteen years of age, of 
American birth who has between four and five years to 
serve. Had on when last seen a whole suit of home- 
spun, yarn stockings, and heeled, leathern shoes with 
large brass buckles. He is marked by a great scar over 
his left eye, is very active, can run almost as fast as a 
horse and is a good hand with narrow or broad axe, 
whipsaw and most carpenter tools. Whosoever takes him 
up and secures him in the Philadelphia jail shall have 
TWO POUNDS reward and reasonable charges. Jon- 
athan Willis. 

(g^jpHis wrist is so large that he cannot be secured 
with common handcuffs.” 

I know not quite why it was so but I felt a 
great sympathy, not for Mr. Jonathan Willis 
who had lost a bond servant, but for the runaway 
boy, who was just about my age. Surely his lot 
47 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

must have been a hard one for him to have risked 
a public whipping at the Town Hall if he was 
captured. While the British and Hessians were 
about, many slaves and servants had run away 
from fright, who were glad enough to return to 
good homes when their fears were allayed. But 
this boy evidently meant to stay away, and I 
doubted not he had been badly treated. Then, 
too, I was impressed by the item saying that he 
could slip his hands out of handcuffs; also, that 
he could run nearly as fast as a horse seemed 
to me wonderful, if it were true. Altogether I 
thought no little of this poor boy, Mark Powell, 
and read the advertisement through, several times. 

But at last the hands of the clock showed that 
the moment for meeting Bart had arrived and 
all other thoughts flew out of my head as I pre- 
pared to go down to him. 

Now that the hour had come I had misgivings, 
but it was too late to back out; my fingers trem- 
bled from excitement as I drew on my boots, 
threw the long cape over my shoulder and ad- 
justed my hat. I took a last look at myself and, 
putting out the light, tiptoed to the door. 

The house was as still as death ; I moved along 

48 


A MYSTERIOUS MAGUS 


the hall toward the nursery and in another mo- 
ment I was groping in the fireplace for the en- 
trance to the secret passage that little Peg called 
the “Mouse’s-hole.” I found it without trouble, 
for I had gone that way before, and I breathed 
easier as I took my first step down. 

But it was exceeding dark and I wished I had 
had the forethought to fetch a lanthorn with me. 
However, it was out of the question to go back 
and I groped my way as well as I could in the 
blackness that was but ill relieved by the faint 
gray light that showed through the pigskins cov- 
ering the chinks in the masonry. 

At the bottom, the passage turned toward the 
spring-house and I was startled by the sound of 
splashing water. I halted, my heart doubling 
its beat, but there was no further sound and, 
thinking I had been mistaken, I went on until at 
length I was at the end of the passage beside the 
spring-house door. 

As I stepped out I met Bart. 

“Is it you, Bee?” he asked in a whisper, which 
though low-toned showed his excitement. 

“Who else could it be?” I questioned back, with 
a little shiver of nervousness. 

49 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

“It could be no one else, I suppose,” he an- 
swered, “but I just came up, and before I reached 
here I fancied I saw something move out of the 
house and was afraid I ’d missed you. Come 
along. Charley is with the horses, and we must 
not delay or we shall be too late.” 

In the darkness we stumbled sadly as we picked 
our way toward the road. 

“We 'll need a light, Bart,” I said; “I should 
have thought of it.” 

“Charley has one and also a spade,” he an- 
swered. “You can trust me to be prepared, no 
matter what may come,” and though I could n’t 
see him, I was sure he had thrown back his head 
confidently, which was a trick he had acquired 
since he had become a soldier. 

He led me by a short cut through the orchard 
and so out into the road a few hundred yards 
from the house, and here we came upon the horses. 

“Hurry now,” said Bart, stepping up to set 
me upon my beast; “we have n’t any time to lose,” 
and he reached out his hand. 

“Nay, I need no help,” I answered, and then, 
to our surprise and consternation, a little figure 
in a dark frock sidled up beside us. 

50 


A MYSTERIOUS MAGUS 


“You may h-h-help me, an it p-p-please you,” 
said Peggy, for it was she, looking like a gnome 
in the darkness, with her peaked hood and brown 
cloak. 

For a moment neither Bart nor I could say a 
word, so chagrined were we ; but at last he found 
his tongue. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” he burst out 
angrily; “you have no business here, and now 
you ’ve spoiled it all.” 

“How could you, Peggy?” I almost sobbed with 
vexation; “you should n’t have come.” 

“Nay,” she retorted, “I was in the secref too, 
and I meant to come, all the time ; only I did n’t 
say so, knowing it might delay you.” 

“But how did you know?” demanded Bart. 
“Did you tell her, Bee?” 

“Not a word,” I answered. “I thought she was 
sound asleep.” 

“I was n’t,” she chuckled, “but you were o-once, 
’c-c-cause I p-peeped in. You had y-y-your eyes 
s-s-shut. I thought I s-s-should have to w-w- 
wake you.” 

“What are we to do with her?” Bart asked 
helplessly. 


5i 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“T-t-to t-t-take me w-with you,” said Peg. “A 
w-w-wilful w-w-woman w-w-will have her 
w-w-way, as M-m-mummer says.” 

“You can’t ride bareback,” I snapped, a little 
crossly, for there might be danger to be met and 
I liked it not that Peggy should run risks. 

“There ’ll be a p-p-pillion on one of the s-s-sad- 
dles,” she answered calmly. “I t-t-told C-c-char- 
ley to p-p-put one on, and he s-s-said he 
w-w-would, though he looked q-q-queer about 
it.” 

“Tha ’s right, Marse Bart,” said Charley with 
the suspicion of a snicker. 

I was inclined to laugh, but Bart was angry 
and perplexed; for we had scant time to argue 
if we were to meet the magus at the appointed 
hour. 

“You must go back at once,” he ordered, but 
Peg shook her head with equal positiveness. 

“Please, Peg,” I began, but she cut me short. 

“ ’T is no use to s-s-say p-p-please, B-b-bee, so 
let ’s be going or we shall be late.” 

It was plain that if we were to go at all she must 
make one of the party. Though I called her a 
naughty child and Bart threatened her with all 
52 


A MYSTERIOUS MAGUS 

sorts of violence, she never budged, and all the 
while the minutes were flying. 

“Then I suppose you must go,” he flung out 
at last. “A wilful woman must e’en have her 
way, so up with you; but I like it not, and if you 
come to harm you have none to blame but your- 
self.” 

A moment later we were off, Bart leading the 
way with the lanthorn, little Peg mounted on the 
pillion behind me, while Charley, carrying the 
spade, brought up the rear. 

“We meet the magus at the Rittenhouse Mill 
Road,” said Bart, still angry, and for a while we 
rode on in silence, though the small imp of a maid 
at my back chuckled and fidgeted with excite- 
ment. 

It was a black and cloudy night, the moon we 
had counted upon being overcast; but when our 
eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness we 
could see well enough and the horses seemed to 
have no difficulty in picking their way. 

As we neared the Rittenhouse Mill Road I for 
one had a fast beating heart, for the real begin- 
ning of our adventures was at hand. 

We saw the magus first a-top of the rise, a dark, 

53 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


weird figure silhouetted against the sky, sitting 
motionless upon a small mule which our horses 
liked not at all to go in company with. 

He was dressed entirely in a tight-fitting suit 
of black satin, which served to enhance the thin- 
ness of him, and on his head he wore a wide, 
flapping hat, also black, but relieved by one blood- 
red plume, which, standing straight up seemed to 
add a foot to his already extravagant height. 
He was indeed monstrous tall, though no thicker 
than a sapling, and his legs hung down on each 
side of his steed till I thought they must touch the 
ground. 

He greeted us civilly enough but with many 
long and uncouth words and I was surprised when 
he made it plain that he thought me a boy. At 
first he didn’t see Peggy, but when at last he 
discovered her, he remarked that he had not 
counted upon a female child being one of the 
party and he misdoubted how the spirits would 
like it. 

This disconcerted Peggy not at all. 

“ ’T is not likely I will fright them,” she an- 
swered for herself, for she feared the magus no 
more than she feared anything else on earth, after 
54 


A MYSTERIOUS MAGUS 

which Schmuck said naught further on the sub- 
ject. 

We turned our horses toward the Wissahickon 
creek and, as we rode, it was evident from the 
very beginning that old Schmuck was bent upon 
frightening us. 

Such tales of ghosts and flibberty-gibbets as he 
related were enough to chill the blood; and one 
in particular, of a spectral coach driven through 
the streets of Philadelphia by a fiendish spirit, 
was most uncanny ; but whether he overdrew his 
tales or whether we were too well instructed to be 
befooled, I know not ; ’t is certain that we maids 
were not unduly terrified, though I was soon to 
learn that one of our party had been affected. 

“Touching the driver of that ghostly coach,” 
said Bart coolly, “his beasts must have been spirits 
too, seeing that he could guide them. Faith, I 
knew not before that horses had souls!” 

“If you come in such a scoffing mood, young 
master,” answered the magus petulantly, “you are 
little like to be rewarded by the spirits you will not 
trust.” ^ 

“ ’T is not the ghosts I so much depend on as 
good Hans Kalbfleisch,” said Bart carelessly. 

55 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“Hans Kalbfleisch !” exclaimed the magus, the 
tone of his voice showing extreme astonishment, 
while at the same time he spurred his beast so that 
it jumped about the road disturbing our cavalcade 
greatly. ’T was some time before we could bring 
our horses down to order again, and then Bart 
questioned the man pointedly. 

“You repeated ‘Hans Kalbfleisch’ as if the name 
was not unfamiliar to you. Tell me, do you know 
him?” 

“I said the name?” retorted the magus, and his 
manner was almost rough. “Nay, you must have 
misunderstood. I am but a poor horseman and 
the shying of my animal nigh unseated me.” 

“Yet I, too, heard you say the name,” I put in. 

“Then it must have been that I repeated it, be- 
cause it struck my ear with a certain quaintness,” 
the magus answered; “but come, we must hurry 
on,” and as an example to us he spurred his little 
donkey forward. 

From the moment Bart unwittingly mentioned 
the name of Hans Kalbfleisch the manner of the 
magus underwent a complete change. Hereto- 
fore he had acted as one who played a role, with 
his stories of ghosts and spirits intended to fright 

56 


A MYSTERIOUS MAGUS 


the ignorant, intent only upon earning his fees 
and maintaining his reputation as a wizard. 
Now, however, he became eager and rather silent, 
answering shortly what questions were put to him. 
I noted that he muttered to himself yet seemed 
to be making an effort to control some strong ex- 
citement he felt. This, more than anything else, 
made me uneasy. 

Thus for a time there was silence, and about 
a half-mile further on we stopped and dismounted. 
We took the horses along a narrow path to a 
small clearing where we tethered them and were 
about to proceed, when a queer rattling noise at- 
tracted my attention. I turned, to see Charley 
trembling beside me. 

“Please, Miss Bee,” he mumbled between his 
chattering teeth, “you all don't want these here 
horses stayin' alone in the dark like this, does 
you ?” 

It was plain that our black boy was in abject 
fear and ready to run off at any moment if we 
insisted upon his accompanying us, so I called to 
Bart, who was a little ahead with the magus, and 
he came back to where I stood. 

I explained the situation, whereupon he scolded 

57 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


Charley roundly in an undertone, for we had no 
wish to inform the magus that his stories had 
been taken seriously by one of our party. 

Bart pondered the matter for a moment. 

“We ’ll have to do our own digging, Bee,” he 
whispered, then, raising his voice, “Charley, you 
stay here with the horses, but come at once, when 
I call. We ’ll be within hail.” 

“Yes, sir,” answered the boy, immensely re- 
lieved, and we left him forthwith. 

I had felt a little uneasy at Schmuck’s manner 
and when we came up with him I was far from 
reassured. 

“Come ! Lead on !” he ordered gruffly. 
“Think you I can wait all night while you pick 
your way so daintily ? Come on ; come on !” 

“Nay, there ’s no hurry,” I said. “Light the 
lanthorn, Bart, and we ’ll look to the priming of 
o r pistols.” 

I spoke in as firm a voice as I could muster, but 
was far from feeling courageous, nor was I re- 
assured when the light which Bart kindled showed 
me the face of the magus, for he was an evil-look- 
ing man, and in that dim glow his eyes glittered 
ominously and had a look of avarice as if some- 
58 


A MYSTERIOUS MAGUS 


thing for which he had long sought was about to 
come within his grasp. 

He scowled at the sight of the pistols, but im- 
mediately his manner changed again and he be- 
came once more the servile, cringing charlatan we 
had first known. 

“Which way, young master ?” he asked, and his 
tones were very humble. 

“Lead on, Bart,” I said. “I 'll follow 
Schmuck,” and I balanced the pistol in my hand 
carelessly, 


m 


59 


CHAPTER IV 

I DIG FOR TREASURE 

A S we picked our way in single file through the 
dark woods bordering the stream the magus 
tried again to terrify us with tales of ghosts and 
such-like supernatural creatures. How they im- 
pressed Bart I could not tell, but I found myself 
glancing about nervously and beginning to be 
afraid of I knew not what. 

On the road, with a sturdy horse under me, this 
talk of evil spirits had scarce any effect, but in 
the damp forest with croaking frogs and the plain- 
tive call of a whippoorwill to accent the silence 
I confess I was ill at ease. Before me the magus 
strode along, the blood-red plume touching the 
lower branches of the trees, a queer, gaunt figure 
in the swaying light of the lanthorn. 

Little Peg was the least concerned of any of us, 
I think. She was close beside me and at each 
stumble over root or stone she would chuckle or 
60 


I DIG FOR TREASURE 


give vent to some stuttering utterance that on an- 
other occasion would have made us all laugh, but 
I never felt less like laughing. I wished with all 
my heart that we had never come upon this quest 
and, most of all, that Peg was safe in bed. But 
such wishes were vain. I picked my way behind 
old Schmuck, holding my pistol in a trembling 
hand and fearful that I might be called upon to 
use it. 

Presently Bart turned sharply to the right and 
after a few paces stopped. 

“ ’T is here,” he said, in an undertone, as we 
all drew up beside him ; “take your wand, magus, 
and begin the search.” 

Schmuck drew forth a long, lithe wand which 
seemed to wave of itself in the uncertain light of 
the lanthorn. His excitement was apparent, 
though he strove to preserve his character of seer 
or diviner. But, although I was near beside 
myself with anxiety and eagerness to have done 
with the matter, I could not help seeing the in- 
tentness with which the man peered about him 
in the darkness as if he were in search of some- 
thing. 

Evidently he found it not, for after a moment 
61 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

he asked Bart to let him have the lanthorn. 

“Nay, your wand needs no light nor your spirits 
neither," answered Bart “I'll keep the lan- 
thorn.” 

“But where shall I begin ?" whined the magus, 
taking on again his most humble mien. “ ’T is 
needful that I find a suitable place. You have n't 
told me all you know, young master," he ended. 

“If I knew the exact spot," answered Bart, 
“there would be small use in taking a magus, at 
some expense." 

It was plain that Schmuck was perplexed, for 
he hesitated a moment as if undecided how to pro- 
ceed. 

“How near to the white stone is the place ?" he 
demanded so suddenly that I was taken by sur- 
prise. 

“The white stone?" cried Bart suspiciously. 
“What know you of a white stone?" 

“Naught, naught," answered the magus eva- 
sively; “I saw such in a vision, mayhap." 

“Humph! another dream," muttered Bart to 
himself, and I was sure that he realized, as I did, 
that old Schmuck knew more of the matter than 
he was willing to divulge. To me, indeed, it 
6 2 


I DIG FOR TREASURE 


seemed that each had some special knowledge 
that he neither dared nor cared to trust to the 
other, so that there was like to be a deadlock. 

It was now Bart's turn to hesitate but after a 
moment he evidently reached a decision. 

“Come on," he ordered, and he led us to a spot 
a few paces nearer the creek where he took his 
stand with his back against a big tree. 

“ 'T is hereabouts. Now let us see what good 
your magic is." 

With a curious, sidelong glance at us, the magus 
set his peeled wand between the palms of his 
hands. The clouds had parted a little and a 
pale light seemed to come from both the water 
and the sky so that the diviner in his black suit was 
plainly visible. 

Slowly he began to move across the open space, 
then back and forth in circles, seeming to be led by 
the rod he carried in front of him, so slight and 
willowy was his form. At length he stopped. 

“There is naught here," he said despondently, 
but even as he spoke the clouds parted still further 
and a pale trickle of light spilled down upon a 
great white stone that had previously been in 
shadow. 


63 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

“The white stone !” we all gasped together, and 
for a full minute we stood staring at it in silence. 

Bart was the first to recover himself. 

“Try it over this way,” he cried, leaping away 
from the tree against which he had been standing 
and running toward the stone. But for an instant 
a flash from the lanthorn had lighted up the trunk 
of the tree, and there, rudely carved in the bark, 
I caught a glimpse of a skull and crossbones. It 
was the blazed tree of which Hans Kalbfleisch had 
spoken and I knew we must be near the pirates’ 
hoard. 

I followed Bart, and so did the magus, and as 
he ran I saw the wand in his hand drawn down- 
ward to the earth till it bent like a fishing-rod 
when one has hooked too heavy a fish. 

“ T is here,” he gasped, like one in heavy pain. 
“T is here. I feel it.”’ 

“Then let ’s begin to dig,” said Bart, quite val- 
iantly, so I thought, for his voice sounded indif- 
ferent enough and he made a movement toward 
the spade. 

“Not yet,” cried the magus, with a great ges- 
ture of horror. “Wouldst have the spirits that 
guard the spot destroy us ?” 

64 


Slowly he began to move across the open space 










« 












































I DIG FOR TREASURE 


“Nay,” answered Bart, a little anxiously, “ ’t is 
to guard against those gentry I brought you 
along.” 

'Then come nigh while I draw the magic cir- 
cle,” the magus commanded. 

For a moment Bart hesitated, then stepped to- 
ward him. 

"Come,” he said to me, "we 'll get out of reach 
of the spirits,” and he tried to laugh as if he cared 
not, but made a failure of his attempt. 

"I ’ll s-s-stay h-h-here,” said little Peg, seating 
herself on a boulder. "I think it ’s s-s-s-safer.” 

I confess I should have liked to remain with 
Peggy, but that would have been to desert Bart, 
so I went forward with him. 

When we had taken our places Schmuck leaned 
down as if he meant to draw the magic circle of 
which he had spoken; but, ere he began, he 
straightened up again. 

"Lay aside all cold metal, for if you have aught 
of that upon your persons we are lost,” he said 
with solemn shake of his head. 

"I have naught but a lucky sixpence about my 
throat,” I hastened to tell him; for his tone was 
most ominous. 


67 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“Nay, good silver will not matter. ’T is cold 
iron that is fatal,” he answered in a hard voice. 
And then I saw that he meant our pistols and I 
became doubly suspicious. 

“Come,” I said to Bart, and he walked with me 
to where little Peg was seated. 

“ ’T is the pistols,” I murmured, so that none 
save he could hear me. 

“Aye, I guessed that,” he returned, “but I mean 
we shall keep them all the same.” 

“How will you manage it?” I asked. 

“Do as I do,” he whispered, “but first hide the 
pistol under your cape.” 

When we reached Peg, Bart stooped as if to lay 
his pistol down. 

“We 'll put them here on the ground,” he said 
aloud, so that the magus could n’t fail to hear him, 
and then as I bent to do the same, he whispered 
in my ear ; “find a billet of wood about the size of a 
pistol if you can.” 

I searched the ground with my hand and found 
a dead branch of about the right length. 

“I have it,” I answered. 

“Good,” muttered Bart, under his breath. 
Then aloud he went on. “No, we had better lay 
68 


I DIG FOR TREASURE 

them on the rock. The grass is damp,” and with 
that we rose and Bart placed a piece of wood be- 
side Peg. I did the same with my stick and, at 
a little distance, in that dim light, they looked 
enough like pistols and I thought Bart’s trick was 
rather clever. 

Back we walked to the magus who, as soon as 
we were near him, began again to make his cir- 
cle. 

He chanted some strange words and we 
watched him slowly move his wand in a wide ring 
about us. As he neared the end he stopped his 
chant and spoke again to us. 

“Spirits dire and dread are all around. We 
stand above a pirate treasure. In the grave with 
the gold lies the body of its guardian. Knew 
you that ?” he demanded suddenly. 

“Aye, I ’ve heard the like before,” answered 
Bart, showing no sign of fear. 

“The treasure is here,” the magus went on, 
“but the evil spirit that watches over it is strong. 
Utter no word nor step without the magic circle 
or all is lost. It boots not what you hear or see, 
even should the dead man come to you with his 
riven skull in his hand, utter no sound. Remem- 
69 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


ber that unless I can render him harmless, it is 
in his power to turn this coveted gold and silver 
into dry leaves and dead ashes. Dost hear?” 

“Aye,” answered Bart, “we hear.” 

With that the man, chanting as before, drew 
the last line and the circle was complete. Then 
he raised himself up and holding aloft his hands 
stood for a while as if offering a silent invocation. 
He made a weird and curious figure stretched to 
his full height, his long bony arms seeming to 
tower above his head, and between them, the 
waving blood-red plume. I shuddered a little, 
wishing with all my heart that the matter was 
finished, but I caught a half smile on Bart’s face 
which showed me that he, at least, still had his 
wits about him. 

I had supposed that the end of the ceremony 
had come when the magus dropped his long arms, 
but in this I was mistaken. First he bowed, three 
times each to the North, to the East, to the South 
and to the West. Then, again taking the wand, 
he held it out before him and the stick seemed like 
a thing alive. Lithe and agile as the man was, 
the writhing thing in his hands was quicker, for 
suddenly it leaped from between his palms and 
70 


I DIG FOR TREASURE 


stood bolt upright as if rooted to the ground. Of 
all that had happened that night, this was to me 
the strangest, for in truth the rod appeared a 
quickened thing, as it shook and shivered at our 
feet. 

The magus with a nod to Bart pointed to the 
spade, and he, without a word, took it up and in a 
moment was hard at work. 

He had made a deep hole before he tired of 
his task, but found nothing and at length, step- 
ping out of the space he had digged, he handed the 
• spade to the magus. 

That individual took it and went to work for ten 
minutes or more without result, though we looked 
eagerly into the rapidly widening pit. At 
length he passed the spade to me and, seeing that 
Bart was about to interpose, I forestalled him, 
sticking my pistol into my belt so that I might 
have both hands free, and took up the task mean- 
ing to do as much or more than any boy. 

I was surprised to find how light the soil was 
and, proud of the ease with which I increased the 
depth of the excavation, labored with a right 
good will. 

Suddenly the spade ceased to cut through the 
7i 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


sand and, thinking I had struck a root, I pressed 
with all my force. But though the object yielded 
somewhat, I could not dig it up and when I 
attempted to withdraw the spade it seemed en- 
tangled in some soft material. For a moment I 
knew not what to think and then, with a gasp of 
horror, it occurred to me that I had come upon the 
body of the poor fellow thrown in on top to guard 
the hoard. With a lively shriek I was out of 
the hole. 

“ ’T is the pirate ! The pirate, Bart,” I 
screamed. 

“Run! Run!” shouted the magus, as he 
jumped toward the spot where he supposed our 
pistols to be lying. “ ’T is the pirate’s ghost. 
Naught can save you now. The spell is broken ! ” 

The terror the magus managed to put into his 
tones was very infectious and I seized Bart by the 
wrist intent upon dragging him away. 

“Come, Bart,” I cried in desperation, but he 
would not move. 

“Nonsense!” he exclaimed, “I don’t see any 
ghost and I won’t run until I do.” 

At that moment a strange and awesome voice 
rose above the confusion and I turned toward the 
72 


I DIG FOR TREASURE 


woods from whence it came. There, just emerg- 
ing from behind a tree was a headless figure, taller 
even than the magus, which seemed to waver 
and glow like a flame. One hand was upraised 
and moved to and fro, but in the other, held out 
toward us, was a riven skull with glowing eyes 
that waxed and waned like candles in a gentle 
breeze. 

With a cry of terror I sank to my knees and hid 
my face in my hands, too frightened even to 
attempt to escape, 


73 


CHAPTER V 


I FIND A TIN TEA-CADDY 

I HAD hardly sunk to my knees hiding my face 
from that horrid apparition at the edge of the 
clearing, when there came an agonizing cry from 
the magus. 

“Oh, do not shoot !” he called. “I pray you do 
not shoot or we are all lost.” And I looked up to 
see Bart facing the headless ghost with a leveled 
pistol, which he was aiming with much delibera- 
tion. Schmuck was near the rock where we 
had pretended to lay our weapons and was in the 
act of throwing down angrily one of the billets of 
wood we had left to deceive him. 

“Do not shoot,” he cried again; “I will try to 
propitiate this evil thing,” and he raised his long 
arms and began to repeat his rigmarole, stepping 
out toward the ghastly figure that undulated in 
the moonlight. 

“An you go too close you 're like to get the 

74 


I FIND A TIN TEA-CADDY 


bullet/' shouted Bart, his pistol still pointed 
toward the apparition. “ 'T is in my mind to find 
out how much good lead a ghost can carry." 

He was about to fire when little Peg flew 
toward us. 

“D-d-do not s-s-shoot," she exclaimed at the top 
of her voice. At this Bart hesitated. 

“Why not?" he demanded, as Peg came up 
to us. 

“There is a-a-another t-t-there who is n-n-no 
g-g-ghost," she stammered, and even as she said 
the words the weird figure seemed to crumple up, 
the ghastly head rolled on the ground where its 
eyes still glittered among the ferns, and in the pale 
light we saw another form grappling with the 
ghost. 

“ ’T is a bony spirit,” came the cry of a 
strange voice from the midst of the struggle. “I 
warrant it will lie quiet now for a while," it ended 
with a laugh that sounded very out of place to our 
overwrought nerves. 

Bart at once made for the spot, his pistol still in 
his hand and I, feeling safer with him, seized Peg 
and followed. 

“I s-s-saw him," chattered Peg, as we went 

75 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

along; “he c-c-came out of the w-w- woods just 
after the f-f-funny b-b-bogie. I w-w- was n’t 
affrighted. It was t-t-too awful, w-w-with its 
u-undressed h-head.” She hopped along much 
excited but showing little evidence of the fear I 
had felt. 

We came up to the scene of the struggle but it 
had ceased. The shpook lay upon its back and a 
stout lad of about fourteen, was sitting upon it, 
grinning joyously as we approached him. 

“ ’T is not worth wasting good powder on 
this,” said the stranger. “He ’s limp enough and 
so bundled up with his ghost clothes that ’t was 
scarce fair to fight him.” 

“Let ’s see what he looks like,” suggested Bart, 
for there was no face visible, a long garment of 
some sort being tied a-top of his. crown and sur- 
mounted by a collar giving him the appearance of 
having no head; but that he did have one was 
plain to see, for we could make out the shape of it 
beneath the flimsy cloth. 

“Now keep still,” cried Bart to the ghost, “or 
I ’ll blow off that other headpiece of yours and 
make a real wraith of you.” 

“Aye, master,” came a muffled and trembling 

76 


I FIND A TIN TEA-CADDY 

voice from beneath the stuff, “I 'll lay like a lamb, 
an you promise not to shoot.” 

At that the strange boy got up, and he and Bart 
stripped off the garment, displaying a long, thin 
fellow, not much older than any of us, whose lean 
and lanky appearance made it plain he was the 
magus’s son. 

“And here ’s his other head,” said the stranger, 
picking up the skull. “Had I not seen him putting 
the shiny stuff in its eyes I might have been 
frighted myself, though I take no great stock in 
old wives’ tales.” 

He held out the skull for us to look at, and I 
shuddered at the sight, for the eyes still glowed 
with the phosphorus that had been rubbed in 
the sockets. 

“How did you see it and where have you come 
from?” asked Bart, for now that the excitement 
had subsided for a moment, his curiosity about 
this boy came uppermost into his mind. 

“I was in the woods,” answered the other, a 
little embarrassed, I thought, “and I saw you tie 
up the horses. I wondered what you were going 
to do with your lanthorn and spade, so I made 
up my mind to follow. I had given you time to 
77 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


get a start and was about to go on myself, when 
this fellow came up on another mule and I stopped 
to see what he was about. He didn’t keep me 
waiting long. After he had tied his beast a little 
way off from the others, he took out this ghost 
dress and the skull, and I saw him put the shiny 
stuff in its eyes and rub it on his clothes. Then 
he followed the light, which was plain to be seen, 
and I took after him. He hid behind one tree, 
waiting, I doubt not, for his signal; and I, behind 
another.” 

The boy enjoyed his own story. 

“I s-s-saw y-you all the t-t-time,” Peg broke in, 
“but the g-g-ghost was f-f-farther off.” 

“ ’T was as good as a play,” the lad went on, 
“and, though I might have stopped him sooner, I 
was curious to see what the outcome of the matter 
would be. ’T was as good as a play,” he repeated 
at the end of his story, and laughed heartily. 

“Well,” said Bart, “ ’t is lucky you came along 
or we should have had a dead ghost, right enough, 
for I was determined to fire.” 

“ ’T was my father made me do it,” said our 
panting play-actor, and that reminded us of the 
fact that we had wholly forgotten the magus and, 

. 78 


I FIND A TIN TEA-CADDY 


with one accord, we turned to see what he was 
about and why he had n’t joined us. 

At first we saw nothing of him, all of us having 
looked in the direction of the stone where he had 
last been, but little Peg spied him. 

“T-t-there h-h-he is,” she cried, pointing, “he ’s 
d-d-digging up the t-t-treasure.” 

And sure enough, there in the hole we had been 
digging was the magus, shoveling out the dirt for 
dear life, his thin back rising and falling rapidly 
as he delved into the earth. 

“Hi, there! Get out of that, Schmuck,” 
shouted Bart, but the magus paid no heed, and 
Bart started toward him. 

“You keep this fellow here,” he said to the 
stranger. “ ’T will be worth your while. I ’ll 
attend to the magus.” 

He started off and I followed, dragging out my 
pistol from under my cloak, for Schmuck was no 
boy but a man grown and likely to take more than 
words to frighten. 

When we reached the hole he was working 
furiously, tossing out spadeful after spadeful of 
earth, and paid no heed to Bart’s order to cease. 
Indeed it was not till Bart held his pistol to the 
79 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

man’s head that he seemed to consider our 
presence. 

“I am but earning my fee,” he snarled then. 

“Your fee!” ejaculated Bart, “when you in- 
tended to scare us from our treasure and take it 
all yourself ?” 

“I?” cried the magus, affecting indignation, 
“sure, here ’s ingratitude! To try to ruin a poor 
man’s reputation when he ’s found you a fortune.” 

“Then why did you have your servant dressed 
like a shpook?” demanded Bart, giving me a 
meaning glance, “if ’twere not your intention 
to intimidate us.” 

“You call that fool my servant?” Schmuck burst 
out angrily. “More like you have employed him 
to give you an excuse not to pay me.” 

“Now I know you are a liar, Schmuck, for the 
boy acknowledged he was your son,” said Bart 
triumphantly. 

“Did he so?” muttered the magus savagely; 
“ ’t is a good beating he ’ll get if I ’m his father.” 

“That is a family affair,” Bart laughed, “but 
now, come you out of that,” and he aimed the 
pistol threateningly. 

Schmuck hesitated for a moment, then, wincing 
80 


I FIND A TIN TEA-CADDY 


before the pistol that was held so close to him, he 
thought better of his decision and stepped out of 
the hole. 

“As you please,” he grumbled, with a shrug of 
his narrow shoulders, “but we may as well go 
home. You would not heed my warning and all 
my spells are undone. You will find naught in the 
hole but dirt.” 

“But there is something there, Bart,” I de- 
clared. “Do you suppose I screamed like that 
for nothing? I tell you I dug up the pirate.” 

For a moment Bart seemed undecided, for he 
had no liking to leave the magus unguarded while 
he went after the treasure. 

“We 'll have Schmuck heave him out,” he said 
at last, in his masterful way. “Into the hole 
again, magus,” he went on; and, although he 
showed much reluctance, the man of magic com- 
plied. 

He worked a little; and presently: “There is 
something here,” he admitted. 

With considerable effort he lifted a bundle out 
of the hole and placed it at our feet. This was 
evidently what my spade had struck and what I 
had fancied was the body of a dead pirate, for it 
81 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


was a huge patchwork quilt, much stained with 
earth and water. The four corners were gathered 
together and tied in a bunch with cord. I leaned 
down and felt of it and, finding that it contained 
many hard and oddly shaped forms, I at once 
jumped to the conclusion that they were silver 
vessels of some sort. 

“ ’T is a pirate hoard, without doubt,” I told 
Bart. 

"Good !” he cried, becoming nearly as excited as 
I was. "Is there aught else in the hole, magus?” 
he added. 

"There ’s a coffer here,” was the surly reply. 

"Up with it,” Bart commanded, and a moment 
later a brass-bound coffer stood beside us. 

"There ’s naught else,” said Schmuck at last, 
stepping out and making a motion to put himself 
at Bart’s back and so avoid the pistol; but Bart 
turned and faced him, still aiming resolutely. 

"Nay, you said there was naught there, once 
before,” he remarked ; "we ’ll see for ourselves 
whether you are telling the truth this time. Go 
down, Bee, and take a look while I keep this 
fellow in order.” 

So down into the hole I went, taking the lan- 
82 


I FIND A TIN TEA-CADDY 

thorn with me, while Bart guarded the magus. 

I took up the spade and tested the ground 
beneath my feet. On one side was a ledge of rock 
but, when I tried to dig in the earth, I found it 
nearly as hard, and I came to the conclusion that 
what I had first handled was so much softer 
because it had been dug away once before. From 
this I argued that we had in reality come to the 
bottom of the pit and that, this time at least, 
Schmuck was telling the truth. Nevertheless I 
thought it prudent to search thoroughly, and 
jabbed the spade here and there in order to assure 
myself that my reasoning was correct. 

Satisfied at last that there was nothing further 
to be found I set my foot into a crevice in the rock, 
preparing to come out, but I slipped and dis- 
lodged a stone, which in turn loosened another 
object which rolled into view. 

I stooped and picked it up, wondering what it 
could be and found that it was naught but a 
common tea-caddy of tin such as we have in the 
kitchen and, upon further examination, dis- 
covered, much to my disappointment, for my 
imagination had at once filled it with great 
wealth, that it was empty. 

83 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


I stood there for a moment with it in my hands, 
a little perplexed as to why pirates should have 
taken the trouble to hide a thing so valueless as 
a tin tea-caddy. Had it been full of jewels or 
Spanish gold pieces I could have understood it; 
but it was empty, and I dropped it back into the 
hole, little thinking what I did, for my mind was 
intent upon the problem of why it was there at all. 

Meanwhile Bart and the magus stood in 
silence awaiting my verdict. 

“There is naught else of worth here, Bart,” I 
said, climbing up to level ground. 

“Then we may think of going back,” said Bart. 
“What puzzles me is how we are to manage the 
treasure and this magus as well, for it ’s in my 
mind to take him to Philadelphia and give him up 
to the authorities for a thief.” 

At this the magus fell to his knees with a cry 
of supplication. 

“Nay, young master, do not do that. ’T will 
be my ruin. Take the treasure and let me go. 
’T is all I ask.” 

“Aye, after you find that you could n’t frighten 
us with your ghosts and make way with it all,” 
answered Bart, making play with his pistol 
84 


I FIND A TIN TEA-CADDY 


toward the magus who visibly quailed when he 
came within its range. 

“Truly the treasure was in some measure mine 
also,” answered the magus with a whine. 
“Though I knew not when we started what it was 
we went to seek.” 

“How do you make that out?” demanded Bart. 
“ ’T was plain enough you knew Hans Kalb- 
fleisch, but that gave you no right to the treasure.” 

“I will confess, young master, if you will let me 
go my ways,” pleaded the diviner. “I ask for no 
part of the treasure.” 

“Nay, I make no promises,” answered Bart, 
“but say on, and if I find you are not lying we 
shall see.” 

“ T was a Brunswicker found it,” the magus 
began, “but, ere he could remove it, the British, 
fearing that his regiment would all desert, shipped 
them off to New York by sea. Ere he left he told 
me and Hans Kalbfleisch, though to neither of us 
did he tell the whole of the secret, thinking to 
make each honest by setting the other as guard to 
watch his interests. To me he said the spot was 
between the white stone and the place Hans knew 
of, but ere Hans and I could come together the 

85 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


British evacuated Philadelphia and, though I have 
searched diligently along the creek for the place, 
there are so many white stones scattered here and 
there that the quest was hopeless. 5 T was only 
when you brought word of the other spot that 
success was possible. So you see, young master, 
in a way I had some right to it, though I give that 
up if you will but grant me my liberty.” 

Somehow he made the matter of his interest 
plausible to us, and his words explained what had 
been so mysterious in his behavior all that night. 
Now, apparently, his only desire was to be away. 
He seemed to care naught for the treasure since 
Bart had threatened to jail him as a thief. 

After some further parleying Bart consented to 
give the magus his liberty on one condition. 

“You must help carry the treasure to our 
horses,” he insisted, to which the magus, glad to 
have freedom at any price, readily consented. 

I ran and told the others that we had found 
something in the hole and that we were ready to 
proceed. At this the stranger proposed that he 
help, too, and all three of us went back to where 
Bart was preparing for the return trip. 

It was arranged that the magus should 

86 


I FIND A TIN TEA-CADDY 


shoulder the coffer, that his son and the strange 
boy should manage the bundle between them, 
while Bart and I walked behind with pistols ready 
in case there should be any sign of treachery on 
Schmuck’s part. 

Peggy brought up the rear, dancing along in 
the best of spirits and vowing every few minutes 
that she had never had so much fun in all her life. 

Charley was there when we reached the horses, 
but we scarce thought of him, for Schmuck, set- 
ting down his burden, asked permission to depart 
at once. ’T was plain he was in fever to be off, 
and it struck me, even then, as strange that he 
evinced no regret at leaving the treasure he had 
been so eager to find. 

The gray light of early dawn revealed the man 
more clearly than had the fitful glow of the lan- 
thorn, and I looked him over curiously. 

He was scarce as awe-inspiring as he had 
been in the darkness, for his suit of satin was 
frayed here and there and showed signs of much 
patching; but it was a smear of mud upon his 
waistcoat, a straight smear of dirt that passed 
under his ruffle, as if a soiled hand had thrust 
something within his bosom, that caught my at- 

87 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


tention. I looked at the spot intently, scarce 
knowing why I did so, and suddenly there popped 
into my head the meaning of it. 

“Please, master, let me go,” begged Schmuck, 
once more. 

“Shall I give him some money?” Bart whispered 
to me. ‘T 11 be glad to see the last of him.” 

“Aye,” was my loudly spoken answer, “we ’ll let 
him go — after he ’s given us what he took from 
the tea-caddy he found in the hole.” 


88 


CHAPTER VI 

BASE METAL 

T HE change in the face of the magus as I 
pointed to the smear of mud upon his breast 
was so sudden and threatening that I was fright- 
ened. His thin lips curled back from his teeth and 
he snarled like an angry dog, showing plainly 
that what I had suspected was true. It was clear 
that he was so taken by surprise as to betray 
himself. 

This he evidently realized as soon as we did, for, 
without a word of denial, he turned in his tracks 
and started off toward his mule. 

So quickly did it all happen that he had almost 
gained his beast before any of us came to our 
senses. Then Bart, calling upon him to stop, 
aimed his pistol. But the magus neither turned 
nor slackened his speed, and again Bart shouted to 
him to halt. 

But the diviner continued his flight and with a 

89 * 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


final bound flung one leg over his donkey. He 
would have been off had he not forgotten in his 
excitement and haste that his animal was 
tethered and so failed to loose it. 

The poor beast tugged at its halter as the magus 
urged it on, but the strap held, and we hurried 
forward shouting. 

Now, however, we had a new man to deal with. 
Whatever it was he had hidden, he meant to keep 
it at any cost, and, dropping on the far side of 
his animal, he slipped into the woods. 

Bart snapped his pistol at him but it missed fire 
and, with a growl of disappointment, he started in 
pursuit. In the meantime the strange boy had 
run with great speed to head the magus off, and, 
though Schmuck’s long legs covered the ground 
rapidly, he was no match for the stranger who 
soon overhauled him and, shouting to Bart to 
come on, threw himself upon the man, and 
tripped him. Together they fell to the ground, 
struggling violently, while a moment later Bart 
reached them and sprang into the fray. 

I hoped to see the tussle quickly finished, but 
the end of the matter was not yet. The magus, 
in spite of his height was wiry ; — more than that, 
90 


BASE METAL 


he was desperate and fought bitterly. Had the 
two boys not been exceptionally strong he would 
undoubtedly have bested them and escaped. But 
Charley, recovering his courage with the day- 
light, joined in, and soon they had him trussed up 
with a halter. 

“Now let us see what you have concealed 
there,” Bart exclaimed, panting from his exer- 
tions; “I warrant ’t is the most valuable part of 
the treasure, if one may judge from the fight you 
made to keep it.” 

He plunged his hand inside the man’s shirt and, 
fumbling about, brought forth a small package, 
which after a scant look he handed to me. 

“ ’T is not worth the trouble, I vow,” he re- 
marked, getting up from the ground, “but take 
care of it, Bee, and we ’ll look it over anon.” 

I took it in my hand and found it a small 
packet neatly wrapped in coarse brown paper and 
tied about a number of times with twine. To the 
feel, — and being eager I squeezed it more than 
once, — it was soft and yet stiff too, like starched 
linen. I confess it was disappointing, but I con- 
soled myself with the thought that Schmuck 
would not have taken all that trouble for nothing. 
9i 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


I wanted to open it then and there, but Bart 
wisely told me to curb my impatience till a more 
fitting time. 

“And now, Schmuck, ,, he went on, regarding 
the prostrate man at our feet, “get yourself up 
and march with me to the jaiL ,, 

The man got to his feet sullenly but made no 
protest. Indeed he seemed scarce to care what we 
did with him now. His face was flushed from his 
exertion and twitched nervously, as if he were 
under some great strain. I did not like the look 
of him and preferred that he be allowed to go his 
way, for I felt sure he was such an one as would 
remember an injury and bide his time till the 
chance served to repay, all the while, feeding his 
bitterness and hate with thoughts of revenge. 

“Let him go, Bart,” I said, “he has made 
naught by his tricks and — ” I lowered my voice 
so that none other could hear, “ ’t would make 
the matter of our search public did we hand him 
over to the authorities, — which I think you do 
not want.” 

“Now that’s well thought of,” he answered 
in a whisper, and then went on loudly to the 
magus, “We ’re going to let you off, Schmuck. 

92 


BASE METAL 


But have a care what you do or we will clap you 
in jail for the old scoundrel you are.” 

Bart took my pistol and telling the strange boy 
to loose the bonds of the magus he bade the latter 
take his donkey and go. 

I expected that Schmuck would be overjoyed 
at the prospect of keeping his liberty and would 
hurry away at all speed, but in this I was mis- 
taken. He stood sulkily, his head dropped to 
his breast, eyeing us venomously from under his 
brows and muttering to himself the while. Once 
or twice he started towards his tethered animal, 
and as often turned back and made as if to speak. 
Seeming to think better of it he held his tongue. 
At last, because of an impatient word from Bart, 
he shook his head and strode over to his mule. 
Loosening it with an angry jerk, he bestrode 
the patient little animal and prepared to ride 
away. But ere he went he turned and again 
made as if to speak, yet so wrought up was he 
that he could only give vent to an angry, guttural 
sort of roar and shake his fist at us. 

He looked so funny there in the daylight with 
his shabby suit of black silk and the silly plume 
in his hat that, being but children, we could n’t 
93 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


help laughing at the queer figure he cut and the 
dumb threat he hurled at us. At last, amid our 
peals of merriment he rode away, and little Peg 
who had been a silent but excited spectator of all 
that had happened called out at the top of her 
voice : 

“G-g-good-by, old g-g-ghost-maker,” and this 
increased our laughter so that our shouts con- 
tinued long after he had gone from our sight. 

“ Where ’s the ghost ?” exclaimed Bart, when 
we were beginning to come to our senses, and we 
looked around expecting to see the thin youth 
somewhere in sight ; but he, too, had disappeared, 
and we guessed he had taken advantage of the 
excitement to steal away. 

There was naught left now but to mount and 
take our treasure back to Denewood where, in 
safety and seclusion, we could overhaul it at 
our leisure. Our thoughts naturally turned to 
the fruit of our adventure and I was eager -to be 
home and discover its value. 

But my eyes strayed to the strange boy who 
had done so much to help us. I now looked at 
him closely for the first time that morning, and 
though I liked his face at once, the thing that at- 
94 


BASE METAL 


tracted my attention was a great scar over his 
left eye and I remembered the advertisement for 
the runaway bond boy. I could recollect much 
of what I had read just before setting out upon 
this expedition and it all fitted the lad before me. 
He was dressed in a suit of homespun, wore 
yarn stockings and on his feet were heeled 
leathern shoes with brass buckles. There could 
be no doubt about it, and here also was the ex- 
planation of why he was in the woods at night. 
He was in hiding. 

“You have aided us so greatly/’ I said to him, 
“is there aught we can do to help you ?” 

Then as I saw that Bart looked surprised at 
my taking the matter upon my shoulders, I ex- 
plained, “I know who he is.” Whereat the lad 
interrupted me with a pleased face. 

“I did n’t think you ’d remember me, Miss, but 
I knew you at once.” 

It was my turn to be surprised and I looked at 
him closely as he went on. 

“Not to say at once neither, because I followed 
you for ten minutes before I caught up with you, 
but as soon as you came back into this road here 
and there was light enough to see, I knew you. 
95 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


You ’ve not changed, although it is two years.” 

Still I had no recollection of the boy. I 
wracked my brains to place him, and I said: 
“At any rate you must let us helg you.” 

But he shook his head. 

“I ’m on my way to Philadelphia,” he told me. 
“I mean to be a soldier.” 

“You can’t go into Philadelphia,” I cried, 
clasping my hands. “Don’t you know you are 
advertised for in the news sheets ? There ’s a 
reward out for you.” 

“Is that so? But how did you guess it was for 
me?” the boy asked curiously. “I never told you 
my name, — though ’t is Mark Powell,” he added. 

“I knew by the scar,” I answered, puzzled. 

“But I did n’t have it then,” answered the boy, 
putting his hand to his head. 

“ ’T is in the newspapers, of course,” I ex- 
plained impatiently, “and you ’ll be taken if you 
go into town.” 

“I wonder,” said the lad, “would Mr. Travers 
think I was old enough now to make a soldier? 
Germantown ’s not far from here, and if I could 
win to him, he might help me for the sake of that 
day at the Green Tree Inn — ” 

96 


BASE METAL 


Then at last I knew him for a boy who had led 
Brother John and me to our horses when they had 
been hid from us by a pack of Tories who wanted 
to seize me for the sake of the reward the British 
had put upon my head, even as now there was a 
reward upon his. In a moment my resolve was 
taken. 

“Bart,” I said, “this boy saved John’s life and 
mine when first I landed in this country, and 
who knows what he has saved us from to-night? 
He is a bound boy who has left his master, I know 
not why, but I think I owe it to him to get him to 
John.” 

“I ’m not ashamed of leaving my master,” an- 
nounced the lad. “I would have stayed but he 
wanted to make a Tory spy of me. I mean to buy 
my freedom as soon as I can earn the money.” 

“We ’ll take you to Denewood with us,” said 
Bart, “till we see what John advises.” 

It was high time for us to be on the road if we 
were not to have our secret known at home. The 
two boys quickly loaded our treasure-trove upon 
the horses and we all mounted and were off. 

Then a thought came to plague me. 

“Bart,” I said, “if we take Mark with us, the 

97 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


Mummers will give him up. They think it a 
duty to return escaped bond-servants to their mas- 
ters.” 

“Then we ’ll hide him,” cried Bart impatiently. 
“Denewood is big enough to conceal a regiment 
and men have been hid there before,” which was 
true indeed. 

Arriving at Denewood we found many of the 
servants already stirring, so, with a warning to 
Charley not to gossip, Peg and I slipped into the 
house by the secret way, leaving it to Bart to 
stow the treasure in one of the great barns and 
to hide Mark in a smoke-house that was unused 
at that time of the year. 

I think the hours never passed so slowly as 
they did that morning. Mrs. Mummer, in one 
of her busy humors, was preparing to put up con- 
serves, and that meant plenty of work for me. 
There were, besides, my regular duties of dust- 
ing and the like that had to be gone through ev- 
ery morning, and little Peg and I could hardly 
restrain our impatience. But we dared not show 
how anxious we were to be off, or to neglect any- 
thing, for fear we should betray our secret. 

At length we were free, for the time at least, 

98 


BASE METAL 


and ran to the barn as fast as our legs could carry 
us, all the while a little uncertain what Bart had 
been doing, for he of course, as a man, had no 
household duties. 

“W-w-will he o-o-open them before we g-g-get 
there ?” asked Peg, in a distressed voice. 

“1 don’t know,” I answered, “but we ’ll soon 
see.” 

We found Bart walking up and down the floor 
of the barn, guarding his treasures. 

“At last!” he cried, when he saw us. “I 
thought you were never coming. What in the 
world has kept you?” 

“We had to dust and to lay out linen and — 
and, oh, a score of things which all take time,” 
I explained. “But what was in the bundle and 
the coffer? I am dying to know.” 

“Think you I would be so mean as to open them 
before you came?” asked Bart. “They are as 
you left them and we will look at what they con- 
tain, together.” 

“Now it was good of you to wait !” I exclaimed, 
for I knew he was, if anything, more impatient 
than we. 

“ ’T was all I could do to keep from looking,” 

99 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

he answered, “and I have been feeling. I ’m sure 
the bundle contains gold vessels of some kind. 
Probably stolen from Spanish churches. But 
come, I can wait no longer.” 

So impatient that we could hardly restrain our- 
selves we cut the cords binding the four corners 
of the quilt and as we opened it all three of us 
bent forward to see the contents. A gray mass 
of pitchers, cups, bowls, platters and such like 
things fell out and Bart, touching it with his foot, 
gave a grunt of dissatisfaction. 

“ T is only silver, after all,” he murmured, and 
began to rummage through the objects to dis- 
cover the gold and jewels he had hoped for. I 
picked u^ 11 pitcher and went with it to the 
ligH had sunk with the suspicion that 

\ a still further disappointment, 

an lamination I discovered that 

our lot e i silver. 

“ ' out pewt-er, 1 >art,” I told him. “We have 
been i h naught.” 

“It c; in distress, but though 

he searci e of utensils there was 

naught bt 1 him. 

“Now th. ’claimed ; “but may- 


BASE METAL 


hap the chest is what we ’re looking for,” and 
at once he started to pry open the small coffer. 

Again we were doomed to disappointment. 
All we found was a quantity of little phials and 
packages. 

I picked up one and read “Ipecacuana,” on an- 
other “Jesuits’ Bark,” then “Quicksilver,” “Tar- 
tar Emetic,” “Calomel” and “Cantharides” in 
quick succession. ’T was needless to go further. 
It was plain enough that we had found a medi- 
cine chest with naught else of value in it, and, so 
far, our quest had brought us little profit. 

Bart’s disappointment was keener than ours. 
He had wanted to win a commission and now he 
saw no hope of it. 

“It must have been a poor party of pirates that 
buried that stuff!” he exclaimed, as he paced 
the floor of the barn once or twice, in anger and 
chagrin. “The whole of it is not worth a pound 
of good hard money.” 

“I do not think that pirates had aught to do 
with it,” I answered. “ ’T is more like some Hes- 
sian loot, picked up as they went along, and buried 
until a more convenient time came to dispose of 
it. Those fellows will take anything, you know, 
IOI 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


and the ground was too soft to have been dug up 
very long ago.” 

“Aye, that’s it,” he agreed; “but,” he went on, 
after a moment’s thought, “why should old 
Schmuck have been so keen for it ? He would n’t 
have been so anxious after a lot of paltry pew- 
ter.” 

“Perchance he was befooled, too, or else ’t was 
the package !” I cried, clapping my hands to where 
it still lay beneath my kerchief. I had forgotten 
it and in another moment I had it out, and we ex- 
amined it critically. 

“Nay, you may have it,” said Bart, who had 
fingered it excitedly when I handed it to him. 
“There are no jewels nor gold in it. Whatever 
it is, you may keep it as a remembrance, for I am 
sure ’t is of little worth,” and he shrugged his 
shoulders indifferently, for he was sore disap- 
pointed. 

The packet was quite clean save for a trace 
here and there of the magus’s muddy fingers. It 
was wrapped so carefully that as I looked at it, 
the thought flashed over me that this was a great 
deal of trouble to take for a thing of small value. 


102 


BASE METAL 

Yet what could it be? I turned it in my fingers 
meditatively. 

“Let’s a-a-all g-g-guess,” suggested Peggy, 
ever ready for a game. 

“And whoever guesses right shall keep it,” 
cried Bart. 

“Nay,” I said gaily, “you cannot dispose of my 
property, sir. You have already given it to me.” 

“W-w-what do you t-think it is, B-b-bee?” 
asked Peggy, pinching the package. “I t-t-think 
’t is a s-s-set of r-ruffies.” 

“That’s your guess, is it, Peg?” said Bart. 
“Very well. I think it is a lock of a fair lady’s 
hair.” 

“A good, fat lock it must be,” I laughed dis- 
dainfully. 

“Well, Miss, since you are so wise, what is it?” 
demanded Bart good-naturedly. 

“You could never guess,” I answered, “but 
know you not that a gipsy told me I should find 
fortune across great waters? Now I ’ve crossed 
the ocean and this is the fortune, of course.” 

“Nay, now,” Bart put in, “when I heard that 
tale before ’twas happiness you were to find 
103 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


across the waters. Think you happiness conies 
packed in such small parcels ?” 

“Oh, c-c-children, q-q-quit your q-q-quarrel- 
ing,” said Peg, “and do let us s-s-see what it is.” 

So with care I began to untie the string and 
this took some time. At length it was free, and 
off came the paper. Inside this we found another 
covering of parchment to keep it dry and beneath 
this again a leaf of silvered paper. So carefully 
was the little bundle wrapped that, in spite of all 
our disappointments, our interest revived and we 
put our heads together intent upon what we 
should discover. 

“This grows exciting,” said Bart, “my heart 
misgives me that I did wrong to give it away. so 
lightly. Mayhap there ’s a portrait of the lovely 
lady as well as the lock of her hair.” 

“ ’T is mine now, at any rate,” I made answer 
and carefully taking off the silvered paper I held 
up the contents of the parcel for all to see. A 
fortune, indeed, for ’t was money I had in my 
hand. 

“Continental shin-plaisters,” scoffed Bart, 
“that even Hessians would n’t bother to carry 
away.” 

104 





All three of us turned 







* 





4 








BASE METAL 


"Bart !” I cried, as I examined them, "they are 
Bank of England notes.” 

With a shout of joy he took them from me. 

"Aye, you ’re right, Bee !” he exclaimed as he 
fingered them, "they’re as good as any hard 
money ever coined. We ’ve come upon the treas- 
ure at last, and now let ’s count it.” 

It must have made a strange picture had any 
eye been there to see it. Two little maids and 
one great boy sitting together on the floor of the 
barn, before them a patchwork quilt covered with 
all sorts of pewter utensils, and in their careless 
fingers a fortune. Through the open door a 
streak of sunshine streamed in, while two hens 
and a pigeon pecked hesitatingly, turning their 
heads from side to side to eye the three chil- 
dren. 

Something, I know not what, caused me to look 
up and at the same moment Peg cried out : 

"Who was that looking in at the d-d-door?” 

All three of us turned. A shadow seemed to 
stir in the sunshine, and a hand that had been 
slyly pushing the door wider was suddenly with- 
drawn. At least I thought I saw a hand with- 
drawn, but after we had run out to see who spied 
107 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


upon us and had found no one, I could not be 
sure, though Peg still vowed she had seen some- 
thing move. 


108 


CHAPTER VII 

A-TOP THE GARDEN WALL 

W E went into the barn again after looking 
about outside, satisfied that both Peg and 
I had but imagined that we saw some one spying 
upon us ; and Bart sat down to count the notes. 

“Two thousand, four hundred pounds I make 
it,” he said finally. “There ’s more than enough 
to buy my commission, and General Washington 
will be right glad to have it.” 

“N-n-nay, B-b-bart,” Peggy put in, “y-y-you 
gave it all to B-b-bee, you k-k-know you did.” 

“Aye, that’s so,” Bart admitted, all the joy 
dropping out of his voice. “You have found your 
fortune indeed, Bee. J T is a lucky sixpence you 
carry,” and he would have given me the money, 
but I pushed it away from me. 

“What manner of maid think you I am, Bart?” 
I cried indignantly. “Do you expect me to hold 
you to a word spoken in jest? T is yours, of 
109 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


course, and now you will have your commission.” 

“B-b-but with all that m-m-money, B-b-bee,” 
Peg said soberly, “you c-c-could go b-back to Eng- 
land and h-h-help your b-brothers.” 

“Aye, if the money was mine,” I answered, 
“but it belongs to the cause. If Bart wants to 
pleasure me more than I can say, he will let me 
have enough to buy Mark Powell’s time from his 
master. That will not be robbing the cause, for 
it will provide it with a good soldier, I ’m sure.” 

“ ’T is well thought of, Bee,” exclaimed Bart, 
all smiles again; “there’s enough and to spare. 
Now take it and put it in safety,” and he placed 
the bundle in my hands.” 

I folded the notes and re-wrapped them in the 
silvered paper, then, putting all inside the parch- 
ment, I stowed the packet in my bodice. 

We gathered the quilt together again and hid 
it and the coffer in the hay until we could make 
up our minds how to explain our find to Mrs. 
Mummer. This done, I went to the house with 
the intention of leaving the money in a safe place, 
but as I entered the door I ran straight into Mrs. 
Mummer. 

“La, child!” she exclaimed at sight of me, 


no 


A-TOP THE GARDEN WALL 


“what’s wrong with you? You look fair 
’mazed.” 

“There ’s naught wrong,” I answered, though 
I understood well enough that my face was still 
flushed with excitement, and I was in two minds 
whether or not to tell her all about it; but, pleased 
with the thought of having a secret, I held my 
tongue. 

“Then,” said Mrs. Mummer a little crossly, for 
she knew, I think, that I was hiding something 
from her and liked it not, “then off to the garden 
with you and pick me some apricots for con- 
serves. If I send Clarinda I am like to get 
naught but mushy fruit, and beside I need her to 
pound the loaf sugar. Pick them carefully, Miss 
Bee, for the Denewood conserves require the 
choicest fruits.” 

I should have liked to have rid myself of the 
money in my bodice, but that would have made 
necessary some explanation to Mrs. Mummer 
who was keen enough to scent a secret, and so, 
without further talk on the matter, I took up a 
basket and ran to the garden intent upon finish- 
ing my task as quickly as possible. 

The lower garden, or the “Old Garden” as we 


hi 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


sometimes call it because it was planted years 
and years ago, was set upon the crest of the far 
hillside so that it was warm and sunny at all 
seasons. High stone walls had been built about 
it in the English fashion and on these were 
trained our choicest grapes and wall-fruit. In 
the beds grew Mrs. Mummer’s stock of simples; 
lavender, dill, rosemary, sage, spearmint and pep- 
permint, all flourished there, beside the fragrant 
stocks and wallflowers. It was a most lovely 
place. The smell of it brought back to me, as 
nothing else in America did, my old home across 
the sea, and my thoughts strayed to Granny and 
my two brothers. 

A ladder stood against the wall beside the apri- 
cot tree and I mounted it, only half thinking of 
what I was doing, lost in a dream of days gone 
by. Halfway up I stopped to eat an apricot, so 
tempting and luscious did it look, and as I took 
my first bite I heard the door in the far wall open 
and shut quietly. I did not turn at once, think- 
ing it was one of the gardeners or perhaps Bart, 
but hearing no further movement, an uneasy feel- 
ing came over me and I looked to see who had 
entered. 


1 12 


A-TOP THE GARDEN WALL 


Had I not had my teeth in the apricot I should 
have cried out as I recognized the tall, lank form 
of Schmuck, with his son beside him, coming to- 
wards me in a half-crouching attitude as though 
they stalked game. ’T was certain the magus 
had been watching us since we left him in the 
woods and that his was the hand I saw on the barn 
door. Doubtless he knew I had the money. 

I was alone, so far from the house that calling 
for help would be useless, and quite at the mercy 
of a man who surely must be desperate to have 
followed me like this. 

As they crossed the garden, father and son 
separated, thus cutting off my escape from the 
opposite sides of the enclosure and my heart sank 
as I saw that I was trapped. I did not hide from 
myself the fact that Schmuck was a dangerous 
man who was like to have little compunction as 
to how he gained his ends. 

But, though I was frightened, it had never been 
my way to stand helpless without making an ef- 
fort in my own behalf and so, scarce reasoning 
why I did it, I scurried up the ladder and stepped 
on the top of the wall. There I saw I could not 
well be harmed if only I were able to drag the 
113 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


ladder up after me, for the wall was all of twelve 
feet high. I seized and tugged at it with all my 
strength. At that Schmuck, noting what I was 
about, gave a low cry and started on a run to- 
ward me, his son following suit; and, though I 
tugged my hardest, it was plain that I would fail 
in my attempt ; for not only was the ladder heavy, 
but the awkwardness of my position on the top 
of the wall gave me but small purchase room in 
which to handle so long an object. 

I was quite sure that the magus would reach 
me ere I succeeded in my task when by great good 
fortune one of his huge feet caught in a black 
currant bush and he fell flat. 

His son stopped to raise him and was well rated 
for his pains. 

“At her, you fool!” cried the magus, seeming 
not to care how much noise he made. “At her, 
for if she have the ladder how can we win to her ?” 

At that the lad came towards me with re- 
doubled speed but I had been hard at work drag- 
ging the ladder up inch by inch and just before he 
reached me it struck a balance, the lighter end 
rising high off the ground as he leaped into the 
air to catch it like a dog after a bone. A moment 
1 14 


A-TOP THE GARDEN WALL 

later I swung it around and stood looking down, 
safe for the time being at least and not a little ex- 
cited and proud that I had outwitted them. 

The magus, getting slowly to his feet now that 
there was no necessity for haste, came toward me 
rubbing his thin hands together and smiling up 
at me with a fine show of graciousness. 

“The boy has turned into a young miss,” he 
said, in a winning, obsequious way, which 
alarmed me more than his frank anger. “I hope 
you do not think we meant to harm you?” 

“I ’m sure of that,” I replied, with as much 
bravado as I could put into my voice. 

“I ’m glad to hear you say so,” he went on, 
still rubbing his bony hands together and grin- 
ning up at me; “it seemed to me that you were 
somewhat hasty in mounting the wall, as if per- 
chance you were afraid.” 

“Nay, I ’m not afraid,” I returned promptly, 
“but the garden makes a fine show from the top 
of a wall.” 

“And the ladder a-top insures a safe descent,” 
he put in, with a little sneer which he tried to 
hide. 

“And also gives me leave to choose my com- 
ii5 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


pany,” I retorted. “But come,” I continued, put- 
ing on a bold front, “what are you here for ? Out 
with it and let ’s have done with this fooling.” 

“I come but for my due,” he answered civilly 
enough. “ ’T is only just that I have a fair share 
of the treasure we found.” 

“A fair share !” I cried back at him, “you would 
have kept all the money, an you had had your 
way. Had you been less eager for the whole 
you might have had a share.” 

“Nay, ’t is not the money I want,” he answered 
sharply. “That you may keep, for all of me. 
Give me the map and I shall not bother you 
further.” 

“The map ?” I echoed. “I have no map.” 

“Now do not tell me a falsehood,” he broke in 
harshly, finding it difficult to keep to his friendly 
role. “ ’T was with the package, and that I saw 
in your hands. Moreover, you still have it, for 
I have been watching you every minute. Come, 
give it up and you will see the last of me.” 

“You are altogether mistaken,” I told him. 
“There was naught in the package save the 
money, and that you shall not have.” 

“I tell you I don't want the money,” he fair 
116 


A-TOP THE GARDEN WALL 

screamed, losing all control of himself in a sec- 
ond. “Keep the money, — but the map I ’ll have, 
if I ’m forced to drag it from you.” 

He had thrown off all pretense now, and as he 
ended he leaped up in an effort to scale the wall, 
but he could not grasp the top and he dropped 
back fuming. 

“Stay you here,” he shouted at his son, “and 
see that she does not escape. I ’m going out- 
side.” 

He started off to the gate, but 9 t was plain he 
knew not the lay of the land, for beyond the 
garden wall the ground fell away sharply and 
there was near twenty feet fall below me. Other- 
wise I might have dropped down and so away to 
safety before either man could catch me. 

The magus needed but a glance outside to show 
him the uselessness of coming at me from there 
and he pushed through the gate again so furi- 
ously, that, feeling safe enough, I was ready to 
smile. But my elation was only momentary, for 
he stopped at the gate and examined it intently. 

At once I saw what was in his mind. Here 
was a possible means of gaining the top of the 
wall. The door had a strong latch and stout 
ii 7 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


cross-bars and was a good enough stairway for 
an active man. 

The magus wasted no time but ordered his son 
to climb the gate while he stood watch over me. 
The boy demurred, but his father, enraged by 
now at the difficulties he was encountering where 
he thought all would be swift and easy, cuffed him 
over the head, and the lad ran off whimpering to 
do as he was bidden. 

Now indeed was my position perilous and I 
looked about me rather hopelessly for a chance 
to escape. The magus, noting my dismay, called 
out to me. 

“Give me the map, young miss, and you ’ll see 
the last of us, I tell you.” 

“But I have no map,” I made answer, stamping 
my foot with impatience and vexation. 

Again the magus broke out in a rage vowing 
to have what he searched for, come what might, 
and threatening me with all sorts of bodily hurts. 
The man was fairly beside himself and his anger 
was so high that I knew his threats were not idle 
ones and if I fell into his clutches I was likely to 
suffer. 

As I looked about me for a means of escape I 
118 


A-TOP THE GARDEN WALL 


realized that there was none and that my only sal- 
vation was to keep the lad from scaling the wall. 
This I prepared to do at any cost and picking up 
my basket I hurried along the broad coping. 

It was impossible for me to prevent the boy 
from gaining the top of the gate but, while my 
strength held out, I was determined to keep him 
off when he tried to swing to the wall. Once 
above him I knelt to make my position the more 
secure and arranged my only weapons, the basket 
and two apricots, where I could reach them easily. 

The magus had followed my course and now 
all three of us were at the gate. 

“Up with you,” he cried to his son, who had 
been making ineffectual efforts to mount and, in- 
deed, showed plainly that he liked not the busi- 
ness. “Up with you, while I hold the gate 
steady.” 

There was a menace in the man’s voice that 
nerved me to do my best. 

I waited breathlessly while the magus’s son 
climbed slowly up and, as his head topped the 
gate, I let fly one of my apricots with all the 
strength I possessed and was lucky enough to hit 
him squarely in the eye. 

119 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“ ’T was over ripe for conserves,” I cried, 
laughing a little hysterically, as I saw the boy, 
with a wry face, loosen his hold and drop to the 
ground. 

But he received scant consideration from his 
father. 

“Why have you let go?” shrieked Schmuck. 
“Up with you, fool. Art afraid of a huzzy on a 
wall ?” 

“Go up yourself,” the lad muttered sulkily, wip- 
ing his face clean of the apricot pulp. “Per- 
chance you ’d like an eye full of soft fruit. I 
doubt not she ’ll kick my head off next time.” 

This gave me an idea and I pulled off my stout 
leathern shoes and grasped one of them by the 
toe. 

“Aye,” I called down to him, shaking my shoe, 
and assuming a courage I was far from feeling, 
“come up and have your ears boxed with this next 
time.” 

“Nay, I ’ll not come,” cried the lad. 

“And I ’ll lay my stick about your shoulders 
an you stay here,” shouted his father. “Which 
think you, dolt, can strike the shrewder blow?” 

Truly I found it in my heart at that moment 
120 


A-TOP THE GARDEN WALL 

to be sorry for the lad, who, though he would 
have left me in peace, was forced to play the 
enemy. 

Up he started again, the magus giving him a 
boost, and I threw my last apricot — and missed. 
Then I took up my shoe and made to strike at the 
fingers holding to the top of the door, but even 
as I was in the act of striking I let the shoe fall. 
I could not bring myself to hit his bare hand, 
though as I hesitated he reached out and tried to 
seize me. I drew back hastily and at the same mo- 
ment the magus swung the gate in toward the 
wall and his son, with a hitch upward, brought 
his head and shoulders to a level with me. I 
jumped to my feet with the intention of retreat- 
ing along the wall, but ere I started I meant to 
make one last effort so, picking up the basket, 
I brought it down over the head of the boy, bon- 
neting him. 

With an effort to dodge the descending basket 
the lad leaned forward and in so doing lost his 
balance and sprawled across the top of the gate 
with the basket hanging over his head and his 
arms striking out wildly like a swimmer’s. 

At the same moment there came a shout and, 


121 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


to my great surprise and relief I saw Brother 
John running toward us at top speed, his drawn 
sword clutched in his hand. 

But I was not the only one who saw him. The 
magus, too, had looked about him, and, with the 
snarl of a beaten dog, he whipped through the 
gate and ran across the field to the wood beyond 
at an amazingly rapid rate. 

The boy, however, still sprawled across the gate 
when Brother John came up. 

“Now, what’s the meaning of this?” he cried 
in a great voice, and would have cut the lad down 
then and there, I doubt not, — for he saw from my 
face that I had been in danger, — had I not stopped 
him. 

“If they’ve hurt so much as a hair of your 
head, Bee,” John said, his voice nigh breaking, 
“they shall pay for it with their miserable lives. 
What is the meaning of it? Tell me,” and reach- 
ing up he grabbed the boy by the leg and pulled 
him to the ground none too gently. 

“ ’T was the other who was at the bottom of 
it,” I hurried to tell him, for in truth Brother 
John was much wrought up and in no mood for 
trifling. The lad’s life hung by a hair. “Do 


122 


A-TOP THE GARDEN WALL 

not harm him, brother. He would not have hurt 
me, I am sure.” 

As if in answer to this there came a long, wail- 
ing sort of groan from under the basket which 
still stuck to the boy’s head and so funny did it 
sound, and so pitiful withal, that we could not 
help laughing, and that put an end to Brother 
John’s fierce anger. 

“But tell me the meaning of it?” he asked 
again, “and do come down from that wall before 
you fall off and, mayhap, break your neck. How 
did you get there and — ?” 

“Nay, do not fret about me,” I interrupted, 
“I ’ll be with you in an instant,” and running back 
to the ladder I slid it to the ground and in a few 
minutes I was beside Brother John who still stood 
guard over the magus’s son. 

“Let us go to the house,” I said; “I have a long 
tale to tell you.” 


123 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE MAGUS AND HIS MAP 

A GROAN from under the basket reminded 
us that there was another matter to de- 
cide before I could tell my tale, and Brother 
John looked down at the magus’s son with a smile. 
The basket still covered his head and he lay flat, 
giving forth monstrous pitiful sounds of distress. 

“ ’T is a curious basket of fruit you have there, 
Bee,” he said, nodding towards the prostrate boy. 

“ ’T is hardly fruit, brother,” I replied. “ ’T is 
more of a vegetable, I ’m thinking. A squash 
or a pumpkin belike.” At which there was an- 
other deep wail from the lad. 

“Well, suppose we have a look at it,” John pro- 
posed, and leaning down he tugged at the basket 
and, after some trouble, removed it, disclosing a 
thin, red face, much swollen from weeping. 

Now that I saw the lad in a good light, the re- 
semblance to his father was striking, but he did 
not have the evil countenance of his elder, and, 
124 


THE MAGUS AND HIS MAP 


moreover, I knew that his part had been forced 
upon him so that I was sorry for the boy. As 
the basket came off his head he rose to his knees 
and held up his hands to me. 

“Save me, Miss, save me!” he begged in pit- 
eous tones. “I am sore afraid.” 

“He will not harm you,” I answered, indicating 
John, for I thought, of course, the reference was 
to him. 

“ ’T is not the gentleman I mean,” he pleaded, 
“but my father. Save me from my father.” 

Both John and I echoed the words in surprise 
and the boy hastened to explain. 

“My father will kill me for this day’s work. 
He grows worse daily and since the British came 
he has stopped at nothing. A year ago he was 
honest enough and, though I played the shpook, 
it was not as last night, when my father meant to 
seize the treasure, but in order to excuse his fail- 
ures when naught was found — as how should 
there be, considering that he is but an ordinary 
man ?” 

“But the wand moved,” I broke in. “It bent 
down to the ground and seemed a thing alive. 
Is there no virtue in it?” 

125 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“Nay,” answered the boy, “ ’t is done with the 
palms of the hands. ’T is a trick that dozens 
use. But ’t was innocent enough, and some- 
times they really did find water in the places he 
made the wand point to. But of late he has been 
mad to find the map he told you of. What it is 
about I know not. Some evil men in the British 
army have fired his desire and he vows he will 
be rich beyond the bounds of avarice an he find 
that for which he seeks. He is no longer the 
man he was ; I pray you save me from him,” 

“But what can I do with a lad like you?” ex- 
claimed John, half amused and half perplexed. 

“I would go for a soldier,” cried the boy, still 
blubbering, and though I was sorry for him this 
was too funny a thought, and I burst out laugh- 
ing. 

“Nay, I am not afraid of bullets,” protested 
the boy. “ ’T is only my father and his calling 
that make me tremble. I could be a soldier — or 
if not that, I could be your servant.” He added 
this last appeal directly to Brother John. 

“What is your name?” asked John, in a more 
kindly tone than he had yet used toward the boy. 

“My father christened me Cagliostro,” came 
126 


THE MAGUS AND HIS MAP 

the hesitating answer, “but, please sir, ’t is such 
a silly name that I ’d liefer be called Bill.” 

At this there was another laugh, in which the 
boy joined in an embarrassed croak. 

“Bill it shall be,” agreed Brother John, “so 
come along with us and we ’ll decide what is to be 
done with you.” 

We turned the boy over to Mrs. Mummer to be 
fed and, after finding Bart, settled ourselves in 
the great hall to tell Brother John of the night’s 
adventure. It was not without misgivings that 
I began the tale, and Bart, too, was by no means 
sure how John would view the matter. We told 
him all, just as it happened, though his face be- 
came graver as we proceeded. At last it was 
out and we waited for the scolding we felt would 
come; but, with a shake of his head, Brother 
John rose to his feet and took a turn or two up 
and down the room before he spoke. It was plain 
that he was indeed much upset. At first he 
seemed little interested in the story itself. 

“Bart,” he began at last, and his voice trembled 
a little in his earnestness, “this matter is done 
with, and I am not one to bluster about what 
might have happened; but, for the future, if you 
127 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

have any hairbrained adventures afoot, remem- 
ber and go elsewhere for help in them. Do you 
understand, sir, what I mean?” 

“Yes, Cousin John,” answered Bart meekly, 
“but the treasure was worth the finding.” 

“Nay,” Brother John exclaimed roundly, “all 
the treasure in the world is not worth the risk 
of anything happening to Beatrice. Think you 
there is gold enough in all the earth to replace 
her? No, sir, she is all I have, and when I think 
of what might have happened to her with that 
desperate man Schmuck — for he is desperate — I 
scarce know how to contain myself.” 

“Oh, Brother John,” I said, going up to him 
and taking his hands, “I ’m all right, and — and 
it was n’t all Bart’s fault — I wanted to go.” 

He looked down at me earnestly and then 
breathed a deep sigh. 

“Well, we will not think any more about it, 
but you must promise me, Bee, that you will not 
go ofif again on harum-scarum adventures of this 
sort. I should be fit for nothing if I thought that 
the minute my back was turned you would be put- 
ting your life in danger on some fool’s errand. 
Come now, promise.” 


128 


THE MAGUS AND HIS MAP 

“But, Brother John,” I protested, “you see 
Washington does need money, — am I never to 
do anything for the cause? Indeed I feel that 
some time you might yourself tell me I should 
go.” 

“Nay, I doubt that,” he answered, “but if such 
a time should come ask yourself, 'would Jack tell 
me to do this?’ and if you can honestly answer 
'he would/ then you may go. But let it be un- 
derstood, once and for all, that such permission 
would not include wild hunts with Bart along the 
Wissahickon for pirate treasure.” 

I made the promise he asked and we shook 
hands to bind it. 

“And now to settle this matter of the two boys,” 
he went on, “where is Mark Powell? He is a 
good lad and I shall take him into my company. 

I owe him much for his work last night.” 

“He is hiding in the smoke-house,” said Bart. 
“Shall I fetch him in?” 

“Aye,” answered Brother John, and Bart ran 
off eagerly. 

It was fine to see the welcome John gave Mark 
Powell, shaking him by the hand and promising 
to give him his wish to serve the cause. And 
129 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


Mark, too, was fine and stood straight and tall 
beside Brother John and I noted that they were 
much of the same build, and though the boy was 
younger, his face looked older than he was be- 
cause of the hard life he had been forced to live. 
Indeed he had grown most wonderfully since we 
first saw him in the Jerseys. 

Upon inquiry we found that he had not eaten 
since noon of the day before, so off he too was 
sent to Mrs. Mummer, with instructions that he 
was to be well filled in the shortest possible time. 

“And now,” said Brother John, “let us get at 
what seems to me the most important part of this 
business. What is this map that the magus de- 
manded of Bee?” 

“I saw naught of any such thing,” I answered, 
bringing out the package of money, “but he 
seemed so certain I had it that perhaps it ’s here 
after all.” 

I laid the notes, still wrapped in the parchment 
and silvered paper, on the table and while Bart 
and I looked on Brother John began to search 
carefully through the bundle. 

Nothing showed upon the parchment covering 
and then the silvered paper was examined. The 
130 


I noted that they were much of the same build 



i 







THE MAGUS AND HIS MAP 

under side of this was white and might have 
served the purpose, but though we scrutinized it 
carefully no mark was visible upon it. 

Next Brother John took up each note in turn, 
thinking something might have been drawn 
thereon; but nothing was found. 

“The magus was mistaken,” I said, as he laid 
the last one down. 

“Nay, be not so sure of that,” answered John, 
“we have n’t yet finished our inspection,” and he 
began again to take up the bills one by one and 
hold them to the light. 

“Why are you doing that ?” asked Bart. 

“Because,” explained John, “it is sometimes 
possible to split such notes and conceal a thin bit 
of paper between the halves before they are 
pasted down again. I Ve known of despatches 
sent in that way by spies.” 

This gave a new interest to the search but it 
came to nothing. No scrap of anything that 
could be described as a chart, naught save the 
notes themselves and the silvered wrapper, could 
we discover. 

Bart and I exchanged hopeless glances. 

“Was there any other paper?” asked John. 

133 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


‘There was some brown paper, and some 
cord,” I answered. 

“That ’s in the barn,” said Bart. 

“Fetch it,” commanded Brother John; but when 
he had returned with the outside wrapper we were 
again disappointed, for there was naught upon it 
save a spot or two of dirt left by Schmuck’s fingers 
when he took the package from the tea-caddy. 

“I think your magus must have been trying to 
impress you for some reason or other,” was 
Brother John’s final conclusion. 

“Nay, brother,” I insisted, “I have no doubt 
at all that the magus believed that I had what he 
sought and that it was not the money. He said 
I might keep that, and I feel sure he would not 
have taken the risk he did unless it was for some- 
thing of vast importance. T is very mysteri- 
ous,” I ended. 

“Nay,” laughed Brother John, “there ’s no 
mystery here. Good Bank of England notes are 
plain enough for all to read. But what is to be 
done with them?” 

“They ’re Bee’s,” answered Bart, so ruefully 
that we all laughed. 

“ T was my plan, brother,” I explained, “to 
134 


THE MAGUS AND HIS MAP 


pay off Mark Powell's bond and let him go to 
the war as my substitute, seeing that I cannot go 
myself. The rest will purchase Bart's commis- 
sion." 

“ 'T is a good plan," agreed John, “and I will 
think about it. But in the meantime I will keep 
the notes and if your magus turns up again send 
him to me. I should love to meet him for, say 
five minutes. I warrant he would be a more hon- 
est magus thereafter." 

He picked up the notes, stuffed them into the 
pocket of his coat and was about to throw the 
piece of silvered paper into the fireplace when I 
stopped him. 

“Let me have that, brother," I said ; “ 't will 
cut up into fine jewelry for Peg's dolly." 

“Aye, so it will," he answered, and handed it to 
me. 

That was the end of the talk about our adven- 
ture and later on I carried the piece of silvered 
paper upstairs with me and put it under a cut 
glass bottle on my dressing-table to keep it from 
being blown away, and there it lay for a time, for- 
gotten. 

Brother John took the two boys away to Phila- 

135 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

delphia with him that same afternoon, and Mark, 
when he was told of the plan that he was to serve 
as a substitute for me, regarded the matter much 
more seriously than I did. To me it was half a 
joke, but he looked at it otherwise. 

“Miss Beatrice,” he said earnestly, just before 
he started out, “you need not fear that your sub- 
stitute will not do his duty.” 

“Nay, I have no fear of that,” I answered, giv- 
ing him my hand, “and Mark,” I added, “I trust 
you to look after my brother, as I would were I 
there.” 

“Aye, with my life,” answered Mark, and I 
knew that he meant it. 

“And I ’ll shine his boots till he can see his 
face in them,” said Bill Schmuck, who was wholly 
delighted at the decision that he was to go as 
John’s body servant. 

There was no trouble in arranging for Mark’s 
freedom from service and a day or two later word 
came to me from John that my substitute was on 
his way to join th$ troop under Captain McLane 
who was with Washington outside New York. 

So with one thing and another the days passed 
136 


THE MAGUS AND HIS MAP 

quickly enough and I forgot all about the magus 
and his mysterious map. 

One evening, however, the matter was brought 
back to me in a startling way. I went up to my 
room and as I opened the door I gave an ex- 
clamation of surprise and dismay. Everything 
was in the utmost confusion. Littered from end 
to end were the contents of my bureau drawers 
and closets; frocks, shoes, ribbons and I know 
not what else were strewn helter-skelter about the 
chamber. Every pocket was turned inside out, 
no box was too small to be emptied, even the bed 
was pulled apart and the mattress drawn half 
way off, showing how thorough had been the 
search. My dressing-table was stripped of its 
contents, the bottles and brushes thrown down 
and the cover torn off. Nothing was injured, 
yet everything was displaced; and I knew not 
what to make of it. 

I called Mrs. Mummer who came with Clar- 
inda, both of them so dumbfounded that they 
could not speak for some moments. 

“’Deed, Miss Bee,” murmured Clarinda, at 
length, “looks lak you had a big wind in here all 
137 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

to you’self,” and that was a true description of 
what the place looked like. 

Mrs. Mummer, more practical, was seeking an 
explanation. 

“There cannot be a thief in this house,” she 
murmured half to herself, though indeed such a 
thought was almost impossible. 

“Let us see if anything has been taken,” I sug- 
gested, and we went to work to put the place in 
order. 

It took a good hour of hard labor, but at length 
most of the things were in their proper places 
again, and yet nothing was missing. 

“ ’T is passing strange,” said Mrs. Mummer. 
“I cannot understand it.” 

“What ’s dat shinin’ ?” asked Clarinda, point- 
ing to a spot of light that shone on the carpet far 
back under the bed. 

“Fetch it out,” said Mrs. Mummer, and Clar- 
inda got to her knees and scrambled on the floor. 

“ ’T is a piece of silvered paper, ma’am,” came 
the muffled voice from under the bed, and at that 
there popped into my head an explanation of what 
it all meant. 

“The magus is hunting for his map,” I thought 

138 


THE MAGUS AND HIS MAP 


to myself, but aloud I said, “Give me the paper, 
Clarinda,” and when she had done so I looked 
at it again carefully, but there was naught upon 
it. 


139 


CHAPTER IX 

A BALL FOR LOYAL LADIES 

N OT many days later Brother John was back 
at Denewood and brought me word that 
Mark Powell was at the front and that Bill 
Schmuck was busy blacking his shoes and taking 
care of his clothes in so earnest a way that there 
was danger they would be worn out by brushing. 
But he had other tidings that interested us all 
very much indeed. 

He came in while we were at our noonday meal 
and after greeting us he made his announcement. 

“I have news for the ladies/’ he began, taking 
a paper from his pocket. “There is to be a great 
ball in Philadelphia given for the French officers, 
but,” and he began to read from the slip he held, 
“it is also to be given ‘in honor of the young ladies 
who manifested their attachment to the cause of 
virtue and freedom by sacrificing every con- 
venience to their love of country/ and you are 
140 


A BALL FOR LOYAL LADIES 

invited,” he ended, pointedly turning to Peg and 
me, who were seated together, and ignoring Polly 
and Betty on the other side. 

"Think you not they are too young?” put in 
Mrs. Mummer, from behind my chair where she 
had been standing since Brother John had 
come in. 

“Nay, now, I am p-p-past s-s-six!” cried Peg, 
indignantly, ""and that ’s no c-c-child. And B-b- 
bee’s turned f-f-fourteen.” 

""They have naught fit to wear,” said Mrs. 
Mummer. ""Miss Polly and Betty will do well 
enough — !” 

""But the Mischianza ladies are not invited,” 
said Brother John, at which the two girls tossed 
their heads disdainfully. 

""I vow, ’t would be a dull affair without the 
English gentlemen,” said Polly, with a most 
grown-up air. 

“B-b-betty had s-s-small f-fun out of the 
Mischianza,” commented Peggy right gleefully. 
"" T is true she saw the p-p-pageant but she m-m- 
missed the b-b-ball and c-c-cried her eyes out. 
She t-t-told me s-so hers-self.” 

""That will not help her now,” said Brother 
141 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


John. “ ’T was taken ill that they, the children 
of a good Whig, should have shown their faces 
there at alL ,, 

Now this Mischianza had been a wonderful 
affair given in Philadelphia by the British officers 
in honor of Sir William Howe on his departure 
for England, and the ladies of the city who had 
accepted invitations to it were not well thought 
of by the patriots who liked not such feastings 
and dancing with the enemy while the Continental 
troops were starving at Valley Forge. Now that 
the Americans were once more in possession, this 
ball was given to honor those ladies who had 
refused to accept the lavish hospitality of the 
British because their hearts were with the 
cause. 

“I shall not cry with disappointment this time, 
you may be sure,” Betty burst out and with that 
the two flounced from the room. 

“They ’re in a r-r-rare temper now,” chuckled 
Peg and we all laughed. 

“But there is naught fit for Miss Bee to wear,” 
Mrs. Mummer insisted, still thinking of my finery. 

“Nay, dress them plainly,” said Brother John. 
“There will be time enough for fine feathers when 
142 


A BALL FOR LOYAL LADIES 

the war is over. At present ’t is better taste not 
to exceed in luxury those of our neighbors who 
have been less lucky than ourselves.” 

“ ’T would be a pleasure to dress her fittingly,” 
Mrs. Mummer mourned, for she had ever an 
eye to finery and talked constantly of the silks 
and laces she would have for me by and by. 

“Do not be cast down, Mrs Mummer,” Brother 
John laughed. “The most distinguished party 
I ever attended was one given by the aides-de- 
camp in memory of the winter just passed at 
Valley Forge — and no one was admitted there 
who had a whole suit to his back! So you see 
your girls will not depend upon finery for their 
consideration.” 

For Peg and me the prospect of the ball was 
very exciting, but in spite of the fact that the two 
other girls pretended to scorn our party I knew, 
nevertheless, that they would have given much if 
they had been going. So I was really glad when 
a day or so later, after it had been found that, 
without the Mischianza ladies there would not be 
enough females, they too received invitations. 

At first they could scarce make up their minds 
to go, but at length Polly hit upon an idea that 
143 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


gave them their desires and at the same time 
saved their pride. 

“After the Mischianza, ’t will be like a country 
dance, I fear,” she said, shaking her blonde head 
languidly, “but it might make people think ill 
things of father’s patriotism if we absent our- 
selves, so we must e’en show our faces at it.” 

Mrs. Mummer, acting upon Brother John’s 
advice, planned simple little frocks for Peggy and 
me which to us seemed both suitable and very 
pretty. She offered the same to the other girls 
but they would have none of her help, so she did 
not press it upon them. Had it been possible they 
would have been off to Philadelphia to the 
mantua-makers’, for Polly had plenty of money 
given her by her father and her expenses were 
but trifling while she was with us. The servants 
at Denewood did not expect the monstrous vails 
which were the custom in England, where a guest 
upon leaving the house of a friend, even though 
he had but dined there, found all the servants 
standing in a row expecting gifts. So extrava- 
gant had the custom become, ere I left two years 
before, that Her Majesty, the Queen, objected to 
the amount she was expected to give and denied 
144 


A BALL FOR LOYAL LADIES 

herself the pleasure of visiting some of the noble 
houses on that account. However, Polly and 
Betty, after several attempts to wheedle Mrs. 
Mummer into letting them go to the city, left off 
trying to coax her. 

As the days passed Peggy and I speculated not 
a little upon what the two girls would wear to the 
ball, but they maintained a great secrecy in the 
matter and vowed it made but little difference at 
so unfashionable a function. 

One evening, however, I found Polly talking at 
the gate with a buxom German market-woman, 
who was mounted upon a broad-backed horse with 
great pannier-baskets hung at each side. She 
seemed a queer person for the modish Polly to be 
conversing with so earnestly, for that young lady 
was very haughty and wont to scorn those who 
were below her in station; but, though I was 
curious, she vouchsafed me no explanation and 
slipped past me into the house without a word, 
leaving me to think what I pleased of the 
interview. 

I was not long left in doubt about it. The very 
next day Peggy came to me much excited, her big 
round eyes shining with interest. 

145 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“F-f-for all their a-a-airs,” she burst out, 
“t-t-those two great g-girls are naught b-but 
b-b-babies. What think you, Bee? They are 
upstairs p-playing with a d-d-doll.” 

“Really?” I exclaimed. 

“Y-y-y-yes, r-r-really,” she replied. “They 
h-h-hided it away, b-b-but I s-s-saw it all the 
s-s-same.” 

“Come along,” I said, my curiosity aroused no 
less than Peg’s, “we ’ll make them show it us,” 
and we ran up to the girls’ room. 

Sure enough, Polly and Betty were there and 
hard at work. On the table before them were 
several breadths of gay flowered silk and in a 
chair facing them was a most wonderful small 
lady. 

“T-t-there it is, B-b-bee!” exclaimed Peg, 
pointing, and then turning to the others, “we 
c-c-caught you !” 

As a matter of fact the girls did look as if they 
were caught and for a few minutes were plainly 
confused. 

“What are you girls doing?” I asked, though 
in truth I had guessed, having always held their 
indifference to be assumed. 

146 



I 




I turned to take a last look at Denewood 









A BALL FOR LOYAL LADIES 


For a moment Polly hesitated and then decided 
to make a clean breast of the matter. 

“We are arranging our dresses for the ball,” 
she said, rather pettishly. “We are not children 
and cannot go robed in baby dresses such as Mrs. 
Mummer has designed for you and Peggy.” 

Now as a matter of fact Betty was scarce older 
than I, but I let the matter pass without comment. 

“And what is that?” I asked, indicating the 
doll. 

“ ’T is a mannequin from the mantua-maker’s. 
She gets them straight from Paris to show the 
styles. I only have it on the promise to return 
it on next market day.” 

“And do you mean to go like that?” I gasped, 
for truth to tell, the doll was dressed wonderful 
elaborate. 

“ ’T is entirely suitable,” snapped Polly. “You 
would not have us shame father by going fitted 
out like serving wenches, would you ?” 

“ ’T is scarce as simple as Brother John sug- 
gested,” I urged. 

^Cousin John is naught but a man,” Polly 
smirked, in a most patronizing way. “He means 
well enough, I suppose, but he lacks judgment in 
147 


V 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

these matters. I know what father would wish.” 

“But Polly,” I protested, “you cannot make 
such a modish dress. You will spoil the 
material.” 

“That ’s what ’s troubling us,” exclaimed Betty 
before Polly could speak. “We know not where 
to begin. We never made a whole dress before.” 

“Let me call Mrs. Mummer ?” I begged, aghast 
at the folly that could think of cutting into that 
rich silk. 

“Nay, now,” retorted Polly positively, “I don’t 
want Dame Mummer meddling here. We ’ll 
manage somehow,” and she took up the scissors. 

“W-w-what w-w-will happen if you s-s-spoil 
it?” asked Peg with perfect calmness. 

“I wish you would go away, child,” grumbled 
Polly fretfully. “I vow you give me the vapors. 
I had quite planned out what I was to do and now 
I have clean forgot what came first.” 

“Polly, dear,” I said earnestly, “ ’t is no easy 
task that you have before you. And do you 
think you can have the dresses done in time with- 
out aid? Why not engage a couple of sewing 
women to help you, if you will have none of Mrs. 
Mummer?” 


148 


A BALL FOR LOYAL LADIES 

“Now that's not such a bad thought, Bee," 
Polly answered with a gracious smile. “If I but 
knew where to seek them." 

“Mrs. Mummer could tell you," I suggested. 

“Nay, we will manage without Mrs. Mummer, 
if we have to spoil the goods," answered Polly 
stubbornly. 

“You should be ashamed to talk like that," I 
protested. “Mrs. Mummer is kindness itself." 

“Oh, 't is all very well for children like you and 
Peg to have some one to pet you," returned Polly 
indulgently, “but I do not need a governess to 
tell me to point my toes and use my handker- 
chief." 

“She's afraid, Mrs. M-m-mummer w-will tell 
C-c-cousin Jack," Peg said astutely. 

“Nothing of the sort," Polly insisted, elevat- 
ing her nose. “I tell you Cousin John is but a 
man without judgment in these matters." 

“Aye," agreed Peg, “he's a m-m-man — but 
s-s-so is f-f-father." 

There was naught further to be said and we 
left them to do as they willed. Polly persisted 
in her intention of getting along without Mrs. 
Mummer but I was glad to learn that she had 
149 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


secured two sewing women to help make up the 
dresses. Much to Peg’s disgust the little 
mannequin whom she would have liked to add to 
her family of dolls went back to town in the 
pannier-baskets of the market-woman. 

At last the great day came. Mrs. Mummer 
insisted that Peg and I should lie down before 
she began our toilettes, saying that we were un- 
used to late hours and would be wise to nap if 
we could. 

We hardly thought sleep possible but it was 
pleasant in the darkened room, and we lay upon 
the bed talking quietly of the fun in store for 
us. Peg had dozed off and I was beginning to 
feel drowsy when the door opened noisily and 
Polly came in. 

In her hand was a hot curling-iron which she 
tested with a moist finger as she entered. 

'This iron is perfect, Bee,” she exclaimed, 
"can you give me a bit of paper? I have none 
in my room.” 

“ Tis m-m-much too h-h-hot. I hear it 
s-s-siz-siz-sizzle,” said Peg, broad awake on the 
instant. 

I jumped from my bed and looked hastily 

150 


A BALL FOR LOYAL LADIES 

around the room, but it had been cleaned that 
morning and I found nothing. 

“I’m sorry, Polly,” I remarked, “there is none 
here. ,, 

“What ’ s this ?” she inquired, advancing to the 
dressing-table and pointing to the silvered paper 
that had been used to wrap the bundle of bank 
notes and still lay safe under my bottle of laven- 
der water. 

“Oh,” I protested, “that fine paper I ’m saving 
to ornament Peg’s dolls. Don’t take it.” 

“Peg will divide with me, won’t you, dear?” 
said Polly in the pleasant voice she used when 
she wanted to wheedle. “A small piece will do 
me.” Again she tested the curling-iron hastily. 
“Please, Peg. These will be cold soon and it is 
so difficult to heat them properly.” 

“If you will only t-t-take a s-s-small p-piece,” 
Peg consented, for she was a generous little soul. 

Polly, being in a hurry, and fearing, doubtless, 
that I would enter another protest, tore the paper 
fairly in half. 

“I wonder, will the silver come off?” she mur- 
mured, as she looked at it for a moment. 
“I ’ll turn that side out in case.” 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


She stood before the glass and curled her hair 
to her satisfaction, chattering all the while, so 
that it was plain that she was excited about the 
ball, though when taxed with it she pretended in- 
difference. 

“Would you and Peg like to use it?” she asked 
graciously at last, holding out the iron. 

“Nay, my hair does n’t need help and I like 
Peg’s better in a state of nature,” I answered, 
laughing, while the child beside me giggled 
audibly. 

Polly shrugged her shoulders. 

“Tastes vary,” she said, indifferently. “Betty 
maintains that naught gives so fine a wave as red 
flannel. Her head at present looks like a gera- 
nium bed.” 

As she talked she took off the silver paper most 
carefully. 

“I vow, child,” she remarked, as she looked at 
its silvery surface. “I ’ve not hurt your precious 
paper. The metal is as good as ever and you 
can make many a broach and necklace out of it 
for your dolls. I ’ll e’en put it back under the 
bottle with the other piece.” 

152 


A BALL FOR LOYAL LADIES 


Suiting the action to the word she tripped 
from the room and Peg and I resumed our in- 
terrupted nap. 


153 


CHAPTER X 


I MEET AN OLD ENEMY 

I T is scarce possible to exaggerate the excite- 
ment little Peggy and I felt as we dressed for 
our first ball, and Mrs. Mummer was no whit less 
stirred. She fussed and fumed over this and 
that, sending Clarinda back and forth till I 
should have thought the poor girl would have 
dropped from fatigue. But finally we were 
done to her satisfaction, even to the last rebel- 
lious lock on Peg’s round head, and she stood off 
from us with a smile of pleasure on her dear, 
good face. Certainly no mother could have 
taken more pride in us than did Mrs. Mummer, 
who was ever ready to work her fingers to the 
bone for our pleasure. 

“Now if there ’s a prettier pair at the ball I ’d 
like to see them,” she cried, bristling a little as 
if she waited for some one to take up her chal- 
lenge. “Mr. John was right not to have you 
154 


I MEET AN OLD ENEMY 


too fancy. You could not be improved upon.” 

“W-w-wait till you s-s-see Polly and B-betty,” 
said Peg, “y-y-you 'll have no eyes for u-us.” 

Mrs. Mummer tossed her head, showing her 
indifference to the charms of those two young 
ladies, and turned to my dressing-table. 

“Gracious me,” she exclaimed, “you Ve forgot 
the lucky sixpence.” And she held up the broken 
coin suspended from its long chain of fine gold. 

That I had forgotten it for even a moment 
showed how much the prospect of the ball was 
in my thoughts, for that broken sixpence was 
very precious to me, it having been the means 
of keeping Denewood from being burned over 
our heads not so very long before. So for that, 
and other reasons, I treasured it above all my 
possessions. There had been a time when Ad- 
miral Lord Richard Howe, a fine courteous gen- 
tleman, had held one half, but his piece had been 
returned to me and since then both halves had 
hung about my neck. 

“ ’T is the luckiest bit of silver in the world,” 
Mrs. Mummer protested, as she held open the 
chain to slip it over my head, having a care not 
to muss my hair. “I feel we are all safe while 
155 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


you wear it; for though it is your sixpence, you 
yourself, Miss Bee, are the luck of this house, 
and in these times when all is war and confusion, 
*t is good to have a proved talisman. There are 
some who laugh and call such things supersti- 
tions, but T is little I care what name they give 
it so long as fortune hops our way.” 

In all this I agreed with Mrs. Mummer, and 
though I am not one to believe in signs and such 
like, as so many in all classes are wont to do, yet 
my sixpence had proved lucky more than once, 
and I could not but feel that whoever wore it 
would be safe from harm. 

The chariot was at the door and we stood 
about the hall waiting for Polly and Betty to 
appear, for, as was to be expected, they were 
late. After repeated summonings, they at last 
came rushing down the broad staircase. 

“Gude save us!” exclaimed Mrs. Mummer, 
holding up her hands in consternation, as she saw 
them, and truly they were wonderful to behold. 

In England, but two years before, I had seen 
my grandmother and my great-aunt, Lady Har- 
borough, with many other fine ladies who came 
to the Dower House; but though the girls wore 

156 


I MEET AN OLD ENEMY 


as rich silks, made after a modish fashion, there 
was something about their magnificence that 
seemed out of place and laughable. Peg and I 
had looked a little enviously at their splendid at- 
tire spread out upon their beds; but now that 
they were dressed I would not have exchanged 
our mul-muls for their flowered taffetas. 

They were pretty girls, but the story of the 
jackdaw and the peacock came into my mind as I 
looked at them, and Mrs. Mummer had some 
such thoughts, for she murmured under her 
breath, “Mummer says, Tine feathers make fine 
birds/ ” and then, aloud, “Well as I said be- 
fore, the two prettiest ladies at the ball will go 
from this house.” 

“Now that is most polite, Mrs. Mummer/’ said 
Polly, preening herself, and taking the compli- 
ment as her due, “and yet you would have sent 
us dressed in country style an you had had your 
way.” 

“Aye, that I would,” declared Mrs. Mummer 
with a snort. “I would have had you looking 
like modest maidens and not with curiosity shops 
upon your heads. But Master John will know 
that well enough to hold me blameless.” 

159 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


Indeed their heads were the most wonderful 
part of their make-up, for the hair was carried 
up so high that it looked like a snowy mountain, 
with the powder dusted upon it. Gay colored 
feathers and butterflies of spun glass were tucked 
here and there and the whole arrangement was 
most fantastic, though ’twas modish enough, 
as I well knew. 

Seeing that she had mistaken Mrs. Mummer’s 
meaning, and taken a compliment not meant for 
her, Polly tossed her head haughtily. 

“Cousin John will see nothing in us to blame,” 
she retorted. 

“D-d-do that again!” cried Peg, excitedly, 
staring with wide eyes. “You 1-1-look just 1-like 
S-s-sukey when s-she carries in the w-w-wash 
on her h-h-head.” 

Amid the laugh that followed we went out to 
the chariot and Mrs. Mummer saw us stowed 
therein, pulling down our dresses and smoothing 
us out while she cautioned us not to fidget. 

“I want you to look fresh when you get there,” 
she said. “An you love me, Peggy, do not 
wiggle.” 

Fitting Polly and Betty into the carriage was 
160 


I MEET AN OLD ENEMY 


a more difficult problem and Mrs. Mummer took 
no pains to be patient with them. 

“Good lack, Miss Polly !” she exclaimed when 
that young lady was finally seated, “had your 
head-dress been a hand's breadth higher you 
needs must have sat upon the floor of the chariot. 
Didst measure it before you built up your pom- 
pons ?” 

“ 'T would not have been the first time a lady 
has done that," snapped Polly, and a minute later 
we were ofif, Mrs. Mummer's last caution to 
Peggy not to wiggle echoing in our ears. 

When we drew up finally at the City Tavern 
where the ball was to be held, Brother John was 
there to meet us and, though I saw his eyes widen 
and his lips twitch as if he wanted mightily to 
laugh when he caught sight of Polly and Betty, 
he made no comment. Peggy greeted him with 
the triumphant avowal that she had never 
“w-w-wiggled a w-w-wiggle," and we proceeded 
to the great Masonic Hall in Lodge Alley, which 
was already filled with the ladies and gentlemen 
of the city. 

Brother John took us to Mrs. Bache, the 
daughter of my friend, Doctor Franklin, and a 
161 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


most kindly lady she proved to be. In a minute 
we were seated about her and soon my first em- 
barrassment had worn off and I could look 
around me with interest. 

It was a mighty curious situation, for at a 
glance one could tell the patriot ladies from 
those who had consorted with the British. 
These latter wore much richer clothes ; paduasoy, 
brocades, lutestrings and India brocades shone 
out in contrast to the dimities and muslins of the 
Whiggish ladies. Nor did the difference stop 
there, for Polly and Betty with their tall head- 
dresses were not alone in that fashion. All the 
Tories had their hair so arranged, and Margaret 
Shippen who sat gossiping with Betty Franks 
had her pompons built up to a full eighteen 
inches and, though it did seem monstrous, she 
carried it well and was, I think, the prettiest lady 
there. 

The music began, and the embarrassment 
of the Tories was complete. The gentlemen 
present, being of very honest opinions, had no 
mind to flatter those who had flattered their 
enemies and the finely dressed ladies stood un- 
asked and neglected. I saw Polly and Betty as 
162 


I MEET AN OLD ENEMY 

I passed them in the dance. They were seated 
against the wall, Polly with a face very red and 
angry, and poor Betty with tears in her eyes. 

I could not help but feel sorry for them and 
begged John to find them partners. 

“There are many gentlemen who wish to 
dance,” I urged. “ ’T is ungenerous to treat 
guests so. If you did not want them to come 
why did you extend the invitation? Would you 
act thus if they were visitors at Denewood?” 

“You 're right, Bee/’ John agreed, “they are 
our guests,” and when that first dance was ended 
he called together some of the officers, and a 
little later it was announced that all gentlemen 
and ladies who were without partners would be 
supplied by lot, as of course the majority were 
strangers to each other and must agree to dis- 
pense with the usual formalities. This at least 
was the reason given out; but, privately, it was 
whispered that most of the gentlemen refused to 
ask the Mischianza ladies personally, though 
they were willing to dance with those so chosen. 
J T was most humiliating and there was a fine 
tossing of great head-dresses, but they consented 
to be led out, nevertheless. Thereafter all 
163 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


danced, but I was glad indeed that I had not 
been one of those to be so slighted. 

Of the men the French officers, in whose honor 
the ball was partly given, were very brave in 
their attire. They were beautifully dressed and 
glittered with orders. M. de Fleury, who danced 
more than once with little Peg, was attired in a 
wonderful white uniform trimmed with gold, and 
sure there never was a prettier picture than when 
those two saluted each other in the dance. 

But another spot of color which I noted here 
and there among that gay throng pleased me 
not at all. ’T was the scarlet uniform of two 
or three British officers who flitted about saying 
flattering things to the Tory ladies and seeming 
as much at home among us as though there was 
no war between England and the United States 
of America, as we Whigs delighted to call the 
Colonies. 

“What’s the meaning of it?” I asked Brother 
John, who was never far from my side that night, 
though to be sure he led out others now and 
again, it being a fixed rule to dance but two 
dances in succession with the same partner. 

“They are some of the slow boys we captured 
164 


I MEET AN OLD ENEMY 

ere they could follow Clinton out of the city,” he 
explained. “They are prisoners on parole and 
’t was thought by the committee to be genteel to 
invite them. There ’s one special friend of yours 
in the city whom I expected to see.” 

“And who is that?” I asked, having no sus- 
picion of whom he spoke. 

“Captain Blundell. He and his friend Fred- 
erick Varnum delayed too long,” he answered. 
“Do not grow pale, little sister,” he went on 
anxiously, for the name of Blundell sent a fear 
to my heart that was like a knife thrust, “he ’s 
harmless now, be sure of that, he ’s had his fill 
of war. ’T was thought he was glad enough to 
be captured and made but a show of trying to 
get away.” 

“Oh, brother,” I said, “any one but Blundell! 
I have a horror of the man.” For he it was who, 
when quartered on us at Denewood, had made 
my life a burden and at the end near succeeded 
in his threat to burn the mansion over our 
heads. 

“Nay, Bee, dear,” Brother John replied, with a 
confident little laugh, “his sting is drawn, and 
though with an army behind him he might be 
167 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


venomous enough, I grant you, he’ll sing small 
now that he ’s a prisoner.” 

“Well,” I said, as John got up to leave me for 
a time, “I hope Blundell comes not near me; for 
though, as you say, the British officers are our 
guests ’t will be more than I can manage to treat 
him civilly.” 

“ ’T is probable that he will not be here at all,” 
answered Brother John, and went off with a bow 
to me and a promise to return ere long when he 
had done his duties to Miss Chew. 

• Doubtless it was on account of Brother John 
that I had so many partners that night, for he 
was so well thought of in and about Philadelphia 
and so devoted a patriot that any relation of his 
must share his popularity. However it was, I 
had hardly a moment to myself and many of the 
finest and most prominent men there had a kind 
word for me. Doctor Rush and Mr. Richard 
Peters who had known me since the days of my 
arrival in America told me the latest news of 
Doctor Franklin who was then in France. The 
French gentlemen too, were vastly polite and I 
heard one of them assure Mrs. Bache, in all 
1 68 


I MEET AN OLD ENEMY 


seriousness, that her father was the most popular 
man in France. 

Peggy had the pick of many partners and there 
was hardly a moment when there were not two 
or three begging dances of her. The French 
officers in particular, seemed struck by her little 
stammer, though they were more polite than we 
and never showed a smile, no matter how queer 
and funny her answers sounded. 

It was near the end of the ball before he 
appeared and I had had time to forget all about 
Blundell, when I was startled by the sound of a 
voice behind me. 

“I trust Mistress Travers will remember me,” 
it said, and I turned to see him whom I most 
dreaded. 

I curtseyed, for I could do no less, but I said 
no word, hoping that he might take himself off. 
In this I was disappointed. 

“Won’t you sit down a moment?” he asked 
with a most deferential and pleading air. 
“Surely you, of all ladies, will not slight a poor 
prisoner who wishes to beg that you think less 
hardly of him ?” 


169 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

I was perforce bound to comply with his request 
but still I held my tongue. 

“I had hoped,” he went on, as soon as we were 
seated, “that you would have forgiven me for the 
part I played in your affairs.” 

“Think you I could ever forgive one who tried 
to destroy Denewood?” I burst out, for I knew 
that the man was a hypocrite. 

“Nay, Mistress Travers,” he answered, with a 
gesture of the hand as if to wipe out the past, 
“that was but an incident of war. Believe me, I 
am as glad as you that circumstances intervened 
in time to countermand my positive orders.” 

“ ’T is useless to discuss it,” I answered, for I 
was sure to lose my temper over the matter if it 
were further dwelt upon and I had no wish to 
give him an opportunity to say slurring things of 
my manners. 

He talked further of the ball, of Philadelphia, 
of many things, trying, as I could see, to make 
me feel more friendly toward him, but I an- 
swered only “Yes,” or “No,” as the case required. 

“I see you do not mean to let bygones be by- 
gones,” he said at length, rather roughly, as if 
he had lost his patience. “No doubt a prisoner 
170 


I MEET AN OLD ENEMY 


of war has little to offer in the way of favors, 
but let me warn you, Miss, that I shall not always 
be a prisoner and the time may come when you 
would rather have me for a friend than an 
enemy.” 

He paused a moment as if awaiting a reply, 
and then, with a low bow, took himself off just 
as John came back. 

“Has the man been bothering you? ,, he asked. 

“Nay, not by what he said,” I answered. “ ’T is 
only that I fear him and would be happier to 
know he was in England for good.” 

John liked not Blundell any more than I did, 
but there was naught to be done but laugh and 
think of something else. 

While we were talking one of General 
Arnold’s aides came up to John and, with a bow 
to me, handed him a folded letter. 

I watched him as he opened it and knew at once 
that it pleased him, for a happy light came into 
his eyes, though his face was grave enough. 

He folded the note having read to the end, and, 
putting it inside his coat, rose to his feet. 

“Come, Bee, I have something to tell you,” and 
I, with a little anxiety in my heart went with him 
171 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

to a small room filled with flowering plants and 
ferns where we were alone together. 

“Em ordered back to my company, Bee,” he 
said, when we were seated. “ ’T is the best news 
I ’ve had for many a day, for I ’m fair sick of trot- 
ting about on civil business at the beck and call of 
Arnold and his staff.” 

“When do you go?” I asked, hoping I would 
have him with me for some days more at least. 

“At once,” he answered. “McLane has sent 
for me to come post haste. There is something 
afoot.” 

“You go to-night, brother !” I exclaimed in as- 
tonishment. 

“As soon as I Ve said 'good night’ to my little 
sister Bee,” he answered with a smile meant to 
hearten me. 

“I know not what I shall do with anxiety for 
fear you will be killed,” I declared. 

“Nay, I shall not be killed,” he protested. 

“Oh, do not say that !” I cried. “ *T is boast- 
ing, and that ’s unlucky. You must touch wood 
three times. Please, brother.” 

He did as I bade him, though with a laugh. 
“Sure I hope T will be a good charm against dan- 
172 


I MEET AN OLD ENEMY 


ger,” he said, and as he spoke my hand went to 
my throat where hung the lucky sixpence. 

Without loss of time I drew it forth. 

“You must take it with you,” I said, handing 
him the gold chain on the end of which the halves 
of the coin clicked together. “ ’T is a very lucky 
sixpence, brother, as you know, and if you have 
it about your neck I shall feel easier.” 

He took it in his hand thoughtfully, looking at 
it for a long time before he spoke. Then he un- 
latched the chain, taking off one of the pieces and 
handed the other, with the chain, back to me. 

“You must share the charm, Bee,” he said ear- 
nestly. “If it will keep harm from the wearer, 
’twill give me more comfort to know you are 
safe.” 

“Very well,” I agreed, “but you must take the 
piece on the chain. Come, let me put it over your 
head and you can slip it beneath your cravat. My 
piece I can find a ribbon for when I go home, but 
you would never think to buy a chain.” 

“I fear I wouldn’t,” he answered, bending 
down, and I put his half of the sixpence about his 
neck and he thrust it out of sight. 

“Promise you will always wear it,” I begged. 
173 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“I promise,” he answered. And, whether he 
had faith in the little coin or not, I knew that for 
my sake he would keep his word, no matter what 
befell. 

“Do you remember what Admiral Howe said 
when he gave you back the pieces of sixpence ?” 
John asked with a smile. 

“ ‘When they are again parted, two shall be 
made one/ ” I quoted. 

“Yes,” he answered, “that was it.” 

“Well, I know not what it means, nor do I 
care,” I went on, “so long as you are safe and — 
brother !” I exclaimed eagerly, another idea com- 
ing to me, “will Mark Powell be in your com- 
pany?” 

“Yes, I have arranged that,” he answered. 

“Will you give him a message for me? He ’s 
my substitute, you know.” 

“Aye,” he said readily. 

“Promise?” I insisted, and he nodded agree- 
ment. “Then you are to tell Mark,” I continued, 
“that no matter what comes, no matter what may 
happen, whether in battle or not, he is my sub- 
stitute and I order him to look after you and see 
that you come to no harm.” 

174 


I MEET AN OLD ENEMY 

“I shall tell him nothing of the sort,” John 
laughed. 

“But you promised,” I insisted. 

“Bee — ” he exclaimed, more earnestly, “you 
will not hold me to it ! You would not have me 
take such a message to one of my men.” 

I saw that being brave and a leader he could n’t 
take my message to Mark Powell with a good 
grace. 

“I release you from that promise,” I answered 
with a sigh, “but if I were there instead of my 
substitute, it is what I should do.” 

“I must go now,” he said rising, and I threw 
my arms about him. 

“Good-by, little sister,” he said, kissing me; 
“I leave you mistress of Denewood and can trust 
the care of it to you, as I have before.” 

“Good-by, brother, and God keep you,” I mur- 
mured, and a moment later he had gone. 

Happily for me the ball was near an end and 
I was not forced for long to keep a smiling face 
while my heart was heavy. 

At last all the good-bys were said. Polly, 
Betty, Peg and I were to drive back to German- 
town that night and as I went down the steps to 
175 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

enter the chariot I saw, standing on the sidewalk 
under a street lanthorn, Captain Blundell and an- 
other beside him with his back to me. Though 
he was not dressed as when I had last seen him I 
knew the figure the instant my eyes lighted upon 
it, it was so long and excessively thin it could be 
no other than old Schmuck, the magus 


176 


CHAPTER XI 


NEWS FROM ENGLAND 

T HE sight of Blundell and Schmuck brought 
a chill to my heart, and I had scarce a word 
to say on our way back to Denewood from the 
ball. 

“Why are you so gloomy ?” asked Polly as we 
rode on. 

“Brother John is going to the front,” I an- 
swered, thinking that a sufficient explanation for 
my lack of gaiety. 

“Oh, is he?” said Polly indifferently. 

“B-bee, dear, I ’m s-s-so s-s-sorry,” cried Peg, 
reaching up and patting my cheek with her soft 
little hand; and, for the time being, I was com- 
forted. 

We all slept late the next morning, but when 
I woke my thoughts turned instantly to the two 
men and I began again to wonder what they 
17 7 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


could have to say to each other. I wished 
Brother John had not been forced to go away 
just then; for, though I saw no way in which 
either of these men could injure us, yet I could 
not shake the fear of them from my mind. 

It was a gossipy breakfast we had. Polly 
and Betty regaling us with chatter of the ball 
and making light of the affront put upon the 
Mischianza ladies by insisting that the Colonial 
officers knew no better but would learn. Peggy 
stuttered volubly in their defense, but I could 
not bring myself to care very much what Polly 
and Betty might say and so was silent. 

After breakfast, on going to straighten up my 
room, I noticed the silver paper lying under my 
bottle of lavender-water and seeing the piece 
Polly had torn off I thought what a pity it was 
she could not have been more patient and taken 
some other bit of paper for her purpose. I 
picked up the strip intending to smooth out a 
crease or two that the curling irons had made 
and, turning the silvered side down in order to 
avoid injury to the shining metal, my eyes were 
attracted by many faint lines drawn on the white 
surface. 


178 


NEWS FROM ENGLAND 


In amazement I examined it closely, remember- 
ing how John and Bart and I had searched it 
and found its surface blank. Yet here was a 
map, rough enough it is true, but still an under- 
standable chart with names and figures carefully 
set down where before there had been nothing. 
I could scarce believe my eyes. 

I sat with it in my hands too astonished to 
do aught but look and look, for how could the 
matter be explained? 

Upon studying it further, it at once became 



179 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


plain that I had as yet only a portion of the 
map, the rest evidently being upon the other bit 
of paper. I rose and hurried to the bureau in 
a fever of excitement to fit the torn edges together. 

But the other half was blank and though the 
rent edges matched there were no lines to com- 
plete the picture. 

I puzzled my brains for an explanation. 
Coul 1 some one have drawn the lines there after 
the sneet was torn in two? But it was impossi- 
ble to believe that so careful a drawing would 
have been put upon a torn piece of paper. More- 
over, the lines ran in such a way that it seemed 
clear that they must be completed on the other 
half. I was convinced that the map had been 
torn, but that the other part fitting the tear had 
no lines upon it was a mystery for which I could 
find no solution. 

It seemed more than probable, however, that 
I had at last come upon the paper which the 
magus had wanted and had gone to such lengths 
in his effort to obtain, and I decided to hand it 
to John at the first opportunity. To which end I 
put it beneath a pile of tuckers in my clothes-press 
where it was less likely to be blown away. 

180 


NEWS FROM ENGLAND 


I had scarcely concealed it when Clarinda 
came running into my room. 

“Miss Bee! Miss Bee!” she cried, her eyes 
wide open and showing much of the whites. 
“Mrs. Mummer says you-all is to come right off. 
There ’s been a robber done got into Master 
John’s room and the place looks worse than yours 
did a while back. Come on, Miss Bee, ’cause 
certainly somethin’ am queer.” 

I hurried with her to John’s room and r found 
it quite as much in confusion as Clarinda had 
suggested. The presses, drawers and book- 
shelves had been emptied and their contents lay 
scattered on the floor. Chairs were upturned, 
the bed was pulled apart, rugs had been piled in a 
corner; it was clear at a glance that some one 
had been hunting for something with the same 
thoroughness that had been shown when my 
room had, in a like manner, been ransacked. 

That this outrage could be the work of an 
ordinary thief was out of the question for, as 
had been the case in my room, an examination 
showed that nothing had been stolen and con- 
firmed my belief that the drawing was the ob- 
ject of these strange visitations. 

181 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


At first the matter, seemed plain enough. 
Schmuck was still looking for his map and hav- 
ing failed to find it in my possession had, not un- 
naturally, come to the conclusion that I had given 
it to John. 

And yet this explanation was far from satis- 
factory, for when my room had been ransacked 
the silvered paper was in plain sight and may 
even have been in the hands of the searcher. 
Could it be that there was still another map? I 
puzzled over it but found no reasonable answer to 
the riddle. 

Then another thought came into my mind to 
plague me. Could Blundell, whom I had seen 
talking to the magus, have aught to do with the 
matter? I feared Blundell more than any one 
on earth and it was with a sigh of relief that I 
dismissed this idea. Hans Kalbfleiscfi had said 
nothing of this British officer and I could n’t rea- 
sonably connect him with this affair. It was only 
my nervousness where he was concerned that had 
suggested such a possibility. 

After Mrs. Mummer and I had put Brother 
John’s room to rights I went back to my cham- 
ber and took out the map, viewing it with even 
182 


NEWS FROM ENGLAND 

more interest than I had before. With such a 
search going on it was clear that it was of im- 
portance and that if I wished to keep it until John 
came I must find a safer place for it. 

I puzzled a little as to just where I should hide 
it but, after some thought, I decided to put it in- 
side the silk embroidered cover of my book of 
maxims. Once before I had secreted a paper 
there and carried it through many dangers. 

I cut the stitches holding the cover, and slipped 
the silvered paper inside, taking a last glance at 
the map to be sure that it was really there and 
that I had not been dreaming. Then, smooth- 
ing all out nicely I took a needle and thread and 
fastened the cover as it had been before. 

“I shall tell Brother John about it the first 
chance I have/’ I said to myself, as I put the little 
book away. 

But more than a year went by before I saw 
John again, the months passing quickly without 
many events of importance to mark them in my 
memory. 

I had written to Mark Powell begging him to 
have a care, when possible, for Brother John’s 

183 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


safety, although what I expected him to do I can- 
not say. But I received a letter in reply in which 
he pledged himself to do all in his power. It was 
a well written letter and the honesty of its pur- 
pose was so apparent that I took great comfort 
out of the thought that John had one so loyal and 
attached near his person. 

The war which had been so near to us hereto- 
fore was now far away and though news of it 
came by express from New York it might as well 
have been in China, so peaceful and quiet were 
we. In Philadelphia indeed all was gaiety. 

“Scarce would you know the British had gone,” 
said Betty. “Mrs. Pemberton’s chariot that did 
for Sir William Howe is not grand enough for 
General Arnold. He hath a coach and four, with 
servants in livery. 

“And he hath bought the Mount Pleasant prop- 
erty on the Schuylkill for Miss Shippen,” put in 
Polly. 

“She ’s Madame Arnold now,” said I, “but tell 
me, is General Arnold so rich that he can afford 
such extravagancies?” for our officers usually 
stinted themselves for the cause. 

Polly shrugged. “He ’ll need to be. Peggy 
184 


NEWS FROM ENGLAND 


Shippen’s father is forever complaining that his 
fashionable daughters have ruined him. They 
say his family costs him five thousand pounds 
English a year.” 

In truth General Arnold was too Toryish in his 
tastes and ways for my Whig ideas, but Peggy 
changed the subject by saying gravely: 

“I h-h-hope my f-f-father’s f-f-fashionable 
daughters are not the r-r-ruin of h-him.” 

I do not like to dwell much upon this theme; 
for, though I care naught for Arnold and think 
he richly deserved all the trouble and misery that 
later came to him, my heart is sore for poor Mar- 
garet Shippen whom he married that spring and 
who was dragged with him through the disgrace 
that came with her husband’s treachery. I have 
seen few in my life who could compare in beauty 
with Peggy Shippen, as she was called in Phila- 
delphia, so when I hear aught of Benedict Ar- 
nold I cannot help thinking first of Madame Ar- 
nold who, poor lady, suffered so grievously 
through no fault of her own. 

In January I had an opportunity of renewing 
my acquaintance with his Excellency, General 
Washington, who was in Philadelphia to attend 

185 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


a banquet given to celebrate the alliance with 
France. We heard news of it, and it must have 
been a most splendid affair, for thirteen toasts 
were drunk, one for each state, accompanied by 
salutes of artillery. 

It was at this time that General Washington 
sat to Mr. Peale for the portrait which two or 
three years later was totally defaced by Tories 
who broke into the council chamber where it 
hung. 

Madame Washington, too, was in Philadelphia 
and there was an entertainment given in her 
honor to which we all went under the care of Mrs. 
Bache. 

When I made my curtsey to her, Lady Wash- 
ington was pleased to say that the General had 
brought her word that the little mistress of Dene- 
wood was an accomplished housewife. 

I blushed mightily at this compliment and was 
for the moment too embarrassed to speak, but 
Madame Washington said, 'There, there, my 
dear,” in so kindly a tone that I was set at my 
ease. 

The Fourth of July, 1779, was celebrated on 
Monday the fifth. We went in the evening to 
186 


NEWS FROM ENGLAND 


see the fireworks, Polly and Betty in gay gowns 
made by Mrs. Ann Pearson in Second Street, 
which, being adorned with gauze at fifty dollars 
the yard, called forth some fine comments on ele- 
gant extravagance from little Peg. 

We were promenading the City Square, the 
older girls in the lead, while Peggy and I followed 
with Mrs. Mummer. 

“Save us !” I heard that good woman exclaim, 
and I looked up to see that Captain Blundell had 
joined the two ahead of us. It was nearly a year 
since I had met him and, believing that he had 
been exchanged and was again with the British 
army, I had given no thought to him for many a 
day. 

Mrs. Mummer would have taken us home 
forthwith, having much the same dread of this 
man as I, but as long as he came not near me 
and we continued to keep the girls in sight, I 
could not see what harm he could do us, so we 
followed them and I noted that he made himself 
vastly a*greeable to Polly. 

On our way home I could not hold my tongue 
from curiosity, but needs must ask Polly what 
Blundell had found to talk about. 

187 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

She tossed her head but did not answer. 

“I k-k-know,” said Peg disdainfully, “ ’t was 
just s-s-silliness.” 

“Nay, now,” Betty cut in, “for once you are 
mistaken. 'T was a most informing conversa- 
tion.^ 

“Indeed !” I exclaimed with a scornful laugh, 
intended to spur her on to reveal more. 

“Yes, indeed !” cried Polly, nettled into speak- 
ing for herself. “Mr. Blundell is an antiquary. 
At his home in England he has a vast collection of 
books and maps and curios. He was telling me 
about them and asking if we had aught of the 
kind at Denewood.” 

“Just an excuse to come there and see you,” 
giggled Betty. 

“Well, he 'll not come then,” replied Polly, “for 
I told him we had no rarities, and the only maps 
I had ever seen were in the hands of John and 
Allan McLane. Then, too, he 's been exchanged 
and leaves to-morrow.” 

“The man's a spy!” cried Mrs. Mummer, and 
I knew not whether to agree with her or to look 
for an explanation in that glimpse I had had of 
Blundell talking to old Schmuck, the magus. 

1 88 


NEWS FROM ENGLAND 

That summer saw two victories for our arms 
which I only recount because John figured in both 
of them. The British had sent expeditions into 
Connecticut, plundering and burning New Ha- 
ven, East Haven, Fairfield and Norwalk. New 
London was to be the next victim, but the British 
force was recalled after our men under Mad 
Anthony Wayne attacked and took Stony 
Point. 

General Wayne was wounded in the head and 
John, with one of the General's aides-de-camp, 
carried him on into the fight because they said, 
“Mad Anthony would never forgive those who 
carried him away from a battle." 

The second victory was at Paulus Hook where 
John and Allan McLane were with Major Harry 
Lee of Virginia. They swam the canal and cap- 
tured the fort ere the British could fire a single 
piece of artillery. 

John told us about it himself when he returned 
at the end of the year's campaign to set some of 
his affairs in order. 

“Both our young soldiers were blooded there 
and behaved with credit. Mark will make an 
officer when he 's older, if he but gets over his 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


present idea that he is a special providence ap- 
pointed to guard me.” 

I laughed to myself at this, much pleased to 
learn that my substitute was attentive to his 
duty. 

John now took out letters of marque and 
shipped crews on several of his trading vessels 
which were roughly outfitted as privateers. Cap- 
tain Timmons appeared unexpectedly at this 
time, having but newly escaped from the British 
who had captured him when he had brought me 
to the Americas. He and I were the best of 
friends and I had a warm welcome for him and a 
thousand questions to ask of his adventures since 
we had last seen each other. It was Captain 
Timmons who had made a rebel of me; so I had 
a soft place in my heart for him. 

Allan McLane having been promoted to a ma- 
jority, John was a captain now and although I 
had hoped he would stay with us he insisted upon 
sharing the lot of his troop during that cold and 
snowy winter of 1780 which was almost as bad as 
Valley Forge had been. 

But the winter passed, new campaigns were 
planned by both sides and the war seemed no 
nearer an end than before. 

190 


NEWS FROM ENGLAND 


At Denewood our affairs prospered and Mum- 
mer ceased to growl at the destruction wrought 
by the British, for all signs of it had been wiped 
out, even the new fences and buildings that had 
replaced those which had been burned having 
taken on a weather-beaten look and ceased to re- 
mind us of those unhappy days. 

I had many plans for the future and was long- 
ing for the time to come when Brother John 
would be back for good. Now and then I would 
remember the magus and Blundell, but I neither 
saw or heard aught of them, though occasion- 
ally I recalled the map hidden in the cover of my 
little book of maxims where it had remained un- 
disturbed all this time. I always told myself that 
I must show it to Brother John, but when he came 
I was so busy and his visits were so short, that I 
forgot till he was gone again. 

In July, 1780, there came news that put all 
thought of such things out of my head for a long, 
long time and brought a change that altered my 
whole life. 

I was astonished one morning as I came to the 
head of the stairs on my way to breakfast to see 
Brother John awaiting me in the great hall be- 
low. 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“Jack!” I exclaimed, for as I had grown older, 
the ceremonious “Brother John” had been 
dropped. He looked up and waved a hand to me. 

“When did you arrive?” I went on, running 
down to greet him. 

“I came last night,” he answered gravely, tak- 
ing my hands ; “it was late and I would not have 
you wakened.” 

“Is aught wrong?” I asked, for plainly he was 
not himself, and lacked the happy, boyish manner 
I was used to. “Have we lost a battle?” 

“Nay,” he answered, and tried to smile in the 
old way, “we 've driven Clinton back into New 
York and his quarters there are almost as close 
as were Howe's in Philadelphia. Nay, our army 
is well enough.” 

“Then come to breakfast,” I said, taking his 
arm, “you must be hungry or you would n't look 
so doleful.” 

That brought a little laugh, though not a 
hearty one. 

“Oh, disciple of Mrs. Mummer!” he cried, “if 
aught seems wrong with a man 't is but an empty 
stomach.” 

At the table he sat listlessly over his food, go- 
192 


NEWS FROM ENGLAND 


in g off now and then into a brown study and 
coming back to his surroundings with an effort 
so that I began truly to be worried, nor was I the 
only one who noted it. 

“B-b-but, Cousin John, have the B-b-b-british 
taken your a-a-appetite ?” inquired Peggy, point- 
ing to the untouched food on his plate. 

Instead of answering he pushed his chair from 
the table. 

“Have you finished, Bee?” he asked, and then 
without waiting for an answer, went on, “I can't 
eat and that ’s a fact !” 

“What is it, Jack?” I said, getting up and go- 
ing to him. 

“I know not how to tell you,” he replied, “but 
they have sent for you from England. And — 
and I must let you go.” 

I looked at him in amazement, not taking in the 
full purport of his words. 

“Come and lie down, Jack,” I urged anxiously. 
“You must have a fever on you.” 

“Nay,” he answered, almost roughly, “ ’t is 
the bitter truth I ’m telling you. You must go 
back to England, and that at once.” 


193 


CHAPTER XII 


A RUDE WELCOME 

‘ A ND now for the whole tale,” said Jack in 
a strained voice, seating himself again 
and drawing forth two letters, one of which he 
handed to me and I saw that it was writ in 
Granny’s neat hand. The other he opened and 
prepared to read. 

“Before I begin,” he said, looking up from the 
page, “I must tell you that the letters came in 
under a flag of truce by the hand of a messenger 
sent to treat for an exchange of prisoners. His 
first inquiry was for a relative of Sir Horace 
Travers, and I did not speak up and claim the 
honor, as in truth I had forgotten all about Sir 
Horace — but when he went on to say that Mis- 
tress Beatrice Travers, sister to Sir Horace, was 
staying with the gentleman he sought, I pricked 
up my ears and went forward, little thinking what 
good luck it would have been had I been born 
deaf.” 


194 


A RUDE WELCOME 

“But, Jack/’ I put in hastily, “I am not Sir Hor- 
ace’s sister. I am but a cousin.” 

“You are Sir Horace’s sister now,” answered 
John gravely. And then I remembered that Hor- 
rie was the heir to Sir Horace, who had been 
ill for years. The old man must have died and 
Horrie come into his inheritance at last, — and 
once this fact had gotten into my head, I under- 
stood all. Long ago when we were about to be 
parted, Granny and Hal to go to Aunt Prudence 
in Amsterdam and I to seek my fortune among 
the savages, Horrie had promised that when he 
came into his money he would have us all back 
again. So now I was sent for. 

It was a little strange what small joy that 
thought brought me. 

“Oh, Jack,” was all I could say, “must I go?” 

“Aye, Bee, that was the question I asked my- 
self at once. ‘Must she go?’ — but listen to the 
letter. ’T is from your brother’s man of busi- 
ness,” and he read as follows : 

John Travers, Esquire. 

At Germantown, in the Colony of Pennsylvania. 
Honored Sir: 

I write to apprise you of the demise on the 3rd 
day of April, 1780, at Frobisham, in Kent, of Sir Horace 

195 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


Travers, Bart. His young cousin having succeeded to 
his title and estates, is most anxious that his sister should 
join him at the earliest possible moment and bids me say 
that by the time of her arrival his grandmother, who is 
appointed his guardian, and his younger brother will be 
there as well. It is his intention to provide his grand- 
mother with a suitable home for the remainder of her life 
and to set aside a generous jointure for his sister so soon 
as he is of age to execute the deed. 

He wishes to express to you his gratitude for the pro- 
tection you have accorded to her and to say how glad he 
is to be able to relieve you of all further responsibility. 
It will increase his indebtedness if you will arrange for 
the young lady’s passage on the first possible vessel, as he 
is anxious that the family should be reunited. 

Yrs. respectfully, 

Jabez North. 

“Why did not the lad write to me himself?” 
asked John, as he folded the letter. 

I gave a half laugh, although my heart was 
aching. 

“He was afraid he would not spell it right, 
of course,” I said. “Just look at the long words. 
But, oh, Jack! must I go?” 

“What bad news is in your letter?” he de- 
manded, putting my question aside. 

“ T is from Granny,” I answered, and opening 
it I read as follows : 


196 


A RUDE WELCOME 


My Dearest Beatrice: 

I am like a child let loose from irksome tasks. Sir 
Horace has had the grace to die at last and we are off for 
England to join Horrie. Glad am I to shake the dust of 
Amsterdam from off my shoes — only ’t is too abominably 
clean to have dust and the people are so virtuous that one 
longs for a chance to find fault with something. 

Your Aunt Prudence thinks ’t is scarce decent to be in 
such haste to be gone ; but for my part I shall not spend 
in exile one day more than I must. At my age, time is 
precious, so come to us soon, my sweet one, for my heart 
is sore for a sight of you. Your exile has been so much 
more dreadful than mine that were I not a selfish old 
woman I would have thought of naught else. Hurry 
then, to your devoted old 

Granny. 

Post Scriptum. Hal says he hopes you have learned 
the use of the bow and arrows from the Indians, and can 
teach him. My one fear is that you may have taken to 
the native fashion of painting your face, which I hear is 
three wide stripes on each cheek. 

“Oh, how like Granny it is!” I exclaimed, at 
the end. “Poor, dear Granny with her foolish 
notions ! though she does love me.” 

“And has your exile been so dreadful?” asked 
Jack, with a very serious face. “ ’T is true you 
have had some rough adventures for a little maid 
— but has it been so dreadful?” 

“Nay, ’t is not necessary to answer that,” for 
197 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


this speech brought back my thoughts from 
Granny, where they had strayed for a moment. 
'Tell me, Jack,” I went on, "must I go?” 

"I can see no help for it,” he answered gloomily. 

"And I can see no reason for it,” I burst out. 
" T is true I love Granny and the boys, but when 
I was friendless you gave me a home, the best 
home a maid could have. T is not fair that the 
minute my fortune changes I should up and run 
away from you.” 

"I would not have you stay out of gratitude,” 
he broke in. 

"I know that, Jack,” I answered, "and ’t is be- 
cause Denewood is my home, my real home, 
where all my love is, and to leave it would be 
like tearing up my heart by the roots. Say I 
need not go, and ’t will be all right. I will write 
a nice, long letter to Granny, and when the war 
is over, we will go together and pay her a visit.” 

I was eager that he should agree to this, think- 
ing little of the difficulties in the way of such a 
plan, but he shook his head. 

"Go you must, Bee, though your going will 
take all the sunshine from Denewood,” he an- 
swered. "I have talked with Madame Washing- 
198 


A RUDE WELCOME 

ton about it, and she is strongly of the opinion 
that you should go/' 

“Then I thank her not!” I answered sharply, 
“and it seems to me that this is a matter between 
us, and one that Madame Washington can have 
little knowledge of.” 

“Nay, Bee,” he returned gently, “ ’t is a mat- 
ter for older heads than either of us possesses. 
There is mor$ in it than appears on the surface, 
and ’t is your future I must look out for rather 
than my present desires. ’T is for your sake, 
and ’t is your position in the world that I must 
think of ; for, remember, the sister of Sir Horace 
Travers is a great lady.” 

“I had liefer remain the sister of plain John 
Travers of Germantown !” I broke in. 

“Ah, but Bee,” he replied, “you are not my 
sister, and that makes all the difference.” 

We argued it a while longer, in fact I protested 
to the very last, but John was firm. Finally when 
’twas settled, little Peg, who had sat listening 
all the while, broke in upon our talk. 

“W-w-who’s to tell Mrs. M-m-m-mummer ?” 
she asked, whereat Jack gave a low whistle. 

“Not me!” he said, with shameless cowardice. 

199 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


Indeed it was a task to fright any one, and 
when at last the news was broke to her she knew 
not which to do the more, pity or blame me. As 
to Jack, she treated him, whom she idolized, with 
supreme contempt. 

“Let her go,” she would mutter darkly, “you ’ll 
never be sorry but once — and that will be always, 
as Mummer says.” 

There was little time wasted on the prepara- 
tions for my journey. The excuse for the hurry 
was the fact that Captain Timmons was in port 
with the privateer bark Alert and it was on her 
that my voyage was to be made. The captain 
had pressing matters to attend to in France, or, 
at least, that is what John said, but it may well 
be that, having once decided that I should go, 
he feared that with any delay he might change 
his mind; and, in truth, it was better that the 
parting should not be prolonged over weeks of 
anticipation. 

Mrs. Mummer was in tears nearly all the time 
as the day of my departure approached, and in- 
deed the parting from her was not the least of 
my heartaches. At first she was for going with 
me, but that I put a stop to because John would 
200 


A RUDE WELCOME 


have been left alone; and so it was settled that 
Clarinda should accompany me. 

Even Polly and Betty showed a most surpris- 
ing and unexpected feeling in the matter. Little 
Peg, somewhat of a small Indian, was loth to dis- 
play emotion at any time, so now she only clung 
to me and hugged me hard, saying convulsively, 
“You will come back, B-bee, I k-k-know you 
w-will.” Then she ran away that I might not 
see her tears. 

It was a compliment and a comfort to me to 
know that a friendless little maid had made a 
warm place in so many hearts, but it scarce eased 
the pain of parting. 

All the men and boys and women about the 
place were on hand to drop a curtsey and wish 
me a “God speed” the morning of my going, 
and when I turned to take a last look at Dene- 
wood it seemed as if the flowers and trees and 
even the mansion itself regretted my going; but 
that, of course, was only my heavy heart that put 
a shade of sadness over all I looked at. 

Brother John came aboard the Alert to see me 
comfortably settled and finally the moment for 
parting with him came. 

201 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

“Must I go ?” I said, looking up at him, my eyes 
filled with tears. 

“It breaks my heart to part with you, Bee,” he 
answered, rather chokily, “but when the war is 
over — ” 

“Ah, the war !” I exclaimed wildly, “I had for- 
gotten; and Jack, you may be killed and I far, 
far away from you.” 

“Nay, now, don't think such thoughts,” he 
said, comforting me, though I knew his heart 
was as sore as mine. “Remember, I have the half 
of a lucky sixpence about my neck and that will 
protect me !” 

“And you will always wear it?” I questioned 
anxiously. 

“Always,” he answered simply, and no oath 
could have been more binding, as I well knew. 

“Can’t you leave the war and come to England - 
with me?” I urged. “Sure you have done 
enough.” 

“Bee ! Bee !” he cried, “you would not ask me to 
desert the cause !” 

“No, no,” I sobbed, “I would not have you a 
coward an I could but oh, Jack! if aught happens 
to you — ” 


202 


A RUDE WELCOME 

' “Nay, do not torture yourself with such 
thoughts,” he answered. “Good-by, and God 
keep you !” and, with that, he kissed me and was 
gone. As for me, I fled to my cabin and we were 
well out of the Delaware before my sobbing 
ceased. 

To me the voyage seemed long and most mo- 
notonous, though Captain Timmons said we made 
a fine trip of it. He was an old friend, and 
scarcely a day passed that I did not look up from 
my sewing to find him shaking his head and 
mumbling to himself that when he had brought 
me to America he had little thought to take me 
away again ; and I would assure him that ’ t was 
not of my own free will that I was aboard his 
ship. Whereat he would give a hearty laugh 
and vow a privateer was not so very different 
from a pirate such as I once, in my ignorance, had 
called him. 

But, as the days passed, and the sting of the 
parting became less acute, I began to think of 
those to whom I was going. Granny I knew 
would be the same ; but four years is a long time 
in the life of a child, and I wondered would Hal 
205 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


and Horrie have changed greatly. They had 
been careless, fun-loving boys, and I, a hoyden; 
but as I looked back it seemed that the years had 
brought so many changes to me that I could scarce 
believe myself the same child. So I was by no 
means sure in my mind what they would be like 
and was somewhat curious about it, wishing the 
Alert would hurry a little. 

Thus the days passed and one morning I awoke 
to find the boat riding on the smooth waters of 
the river Loire. Soon we passed the town of 
Saint-Nazaire, dropping anchor at last at Nantes. 

We had counted on the French having cleared 
the channel of the English ships, and when we 
came to anchor Captain Timmons put on his best 
clothes and went ashore, while I was forced to 
stay content on the deck of the Alert watching 
the various craft and the strange people who 
manned them, and thinking how glad and gay I 
would be if we had dropped anchor in the Dela- 
ware instead. 

About tea-time the captain came back. 

“ J T was not so easy a task as I had thought to 
find it,” he announced at once. “It seems that 
England is too strong to be conquered on the sea, 
206 


A RUDE WELCOME 

as they expected here; and commerce between 
the two countries is as dead as a herring. But 
there are still some honest smugglers at work and 
I have arranged that you are to go with one of 
them. Till he sails you must e’en be content.” 

Truth to tell I liked not this plan at all, but I 
had been put into Captain Timmons’ hands and 
felt sure it was the best he could do. 

It was some days before the smuggler’s craft 
was ready and once or twice Clarinda and I were 
allowed to go on shore, where the black girl 
thought that all who did not understand her 
English must surely be deaf and shouted herself 
hoarse in her effort to make them hear. 

The little town of Nantes was quaint and new 
to me, and we saw many strange and interesting 
sights. There were houses with joists and gables 
carved with all manner of grotesque faces ; others 
whose every story jutted out over the one below 
till they looked like stairs set upside down. We 
visited the shrine of St. Sebastian where the 
pilgrims go to pray to be saved from the plague. 
But of all the places the market interested me the 
most. Here we found fat, red-faced farmers, 
pig- jobbers, poultry-dealers, vendors of earthen- 
207 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


ware and vegetables. More than half the people, 
buyers and sellers alike, were women who knitted 
constantly, plying their clicking needles as they 
bargained or gossiped and never missing a stitch 
no matter how hot the argument might wax. All 
were brown-faced, white-capped and wooden- 
shod; and save that the townspeople carried a 
great door key hung at the girdle, it was impos- 
sible to tell them from the country folk. 

At length the day came when the French smug- 
gler was to start, and all my effects were put 
aboard a small hooker named the Clair de Lune . 
She seemed safe enough, and, as a matter of fact, 
I was entirely comfortable while I was on her. 

Just as we were leaving the Alert Captain Tim- 
mons took me to one side. 

“I have two presents for you, Mistress Bea- 
trice, he began. “They were left in my charge 
by Mr. Travers to be handed over when we 
parted.” 

One of the parcels was a purse containing a 
large sum of money, and the other was a small, 
leather-covered case. I opened it hastily and 
found a locket of gold ; inside this was a miniature 
of Jack and a slip of paper upon which was writ- 
208 


A RUDE WELCOME 


ten: “This, so you will not forget one who is 
ever thinking of you.” ^ 

I gave a cry of joy! It was as if I heard John 
speak to me. 

“ ’T is like him, is it not?” asked the captain, 
looking at the picture over my shoulder. “He 
had it done by Mr. Peale, the same that painted 
the portrait of his Excellency, General Washing- 
ton. A bit flattered, I should say, but ’t will do 
well enough.” 

“ ’T is not at all flattered !” I retorted indig- 
nantly, and then I caught the twinkle in the cap- 
tain’s eye and saw that he was but teasing me, 
and was amused that I had been taken in. 

“Do not be too free with your money, lass,” he 
said to me at parting. “ ’T is an honest smuggler 
you go with, but ’t is safer in these foreign coun- 
tries not to put temptation in the way of any one. 
Hide your gold and your locket where they will 
not be easily found. Your route will be by post 
from Rye, in the east of Sussex, where you are to 
land, to Frobisham, in Kent. T will take a long 
day and, though there are highwaymen about, 
those gentry ply their trade at night. Neverthe- 
less, hide your money and — oh, yes, Mr. Travers 
209 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

bade me tell you he would send more from time to 
time.” 

“You have all my thanks for your kindness, 
Captain Timmons,” I murmured, holding out my 
hand. 

“Nay, Mistress Beatrice,” he said, “I have done 
naught. But do not let us part until I have been 
told when I am to come for you again.” 

At that I burst into tears, for in saying fare- 
well I seemed to be severing the last tie holding 
me to the country of my adoption, and my heart 
was heavy. 

“I would that I knew when I might return,” I 
sobbed, “but one thing you may promise an you 
will.” 

“Say on, and ’t is done,” he answered heartily. 

“That you will come for me if aught happens 
to Brother John?” I went on. “Wait not to see 
how he fares. Even a little hurt might prove 
serious and \ will take so long to reach him,” and 
at the thought my tears began to fall afresh. 

“To be sure I 'll promise,” said the captain hast- 
ily, and I think he would have undertaken any- 
thing to stay my tears. 

And so I parted with the good captain in better 


210 


A RUDE WELCOME 

spirits than I would have thought possible ; for it 
seemed that I had made him a link between Jack 
and myself. 

We were most civilly treated aboard the Clair 
de Lune, but their bearded faces and tasseled caps 
gave the French captain and his men a very sin- 
ister look to my unaccustomed eyes. The boat 
was not particularly clean but the food and wine 
were most excellent, indeed vastly superior to that 
with which we had been satisfied upon the Alert. 

We were destined, because of contrary winds, 
to spend a longer time on the “Clair” as the men 
called her, than I had thought would be needful, 
and it was near a week before we sighted a shore 
early one evening which the captain told me was 
“Angleterre.” 

But even then we could not go direct, for there 
were suspicious-looking sails about, and the cap- 
tain drove past Rye Bay as if it were nothing to 
us. 

When night had fallen, we crept back slowly 
again, only to find a ship riding at anchor in the 
bay. 

After a hurried consultation with his son, who 
acted as mate, the captain explained most politely 
2 II 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


and with many shrugs and expressions of regret, 
that he dared not run the risk of seizure, the Eng- 
lish were more than usually watchful, so he and 
his son had come to the conclusion that it was 
best to put about and await a more favorable op- 
portunity. 

“And what is to be done with me?” I demanded, 
to which he replied that the same question had 
bothered him more than he could well express. 

I protested that I did not wish to go back to 
France and that as I was not contraband and did 
not fear seizure, I saw no reason why he could 
not set Clarinda and me ashore with our boxes 
without any great risk to themselves. 

The captain promised to take the matter under 
advisement and at length it was agreed that an 
attempt should be made to land me on the beach 
that very night. 

“But why not during the day ?” I protested, not 
liking the thought of being landed in a strange 
country in the darkness. 

“ ’T is impossible,” he answered, and though I 
knew not why it should be so, it was clear they 
would not consider my wishes on this point. 

I was far from liking the prospect, but I wanted 
21 2 


A RUDE WELCOME 


mightily to be on shore, and so I consented with 
as good a grace as I could. 

It was a moonless night, though fairly clear, 
and Clarinda and I were put into a small boat 
after the Clair had been brought to, a mile or so 
off-shore. Every move was made with extreme 
quietness and the men spoke in whispers, giving 
the impression that we were upon some desperate 
venture, which I could not help thinking very 
absurd and French. I bade farewell to the cap- 
tain, thanking him for his care of me, and a few 
moments later we were rowing silently away from 
the hooker. 

Nothing appeared to stay our progress, and at 
length the line of white waves breaking gently 
upon the shore showed over our bow and we 
grounded softly. 

The Frenchmen made short work of relieving 
themselves of their passengers, and in scarce more 
time than it takes to tell we were standing on the 
soft sand in the midst of our boxes unable to see 
ten yards in any direction, alone on a strange 
beach, where not a light showed and no sound 
came to us. 

“Save us, Miss Bee, but I d’clare dis certainly 
213 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

am lonesome. Ah don’t think tha ’s a soul livin’ 
in dis land,” said Clarinda, but scarcely had she 
whispered the words than the harsh voice of a 
man smote our ears. 

“Halt ! Stand where you are !” 

The command came from a point a little to my 
right. 

“ ’T will be a pleasure to shoot you an you come 
in my direction !” cried some one behind me. 

“Or in mine !” shouted another. 

“Or in mine !” cried a third, and in a moment 
other voices took up the words till it sounded as if 
a regiment was surrounding us. 

Clarinda with a faint wail of fear dropped at my 
feet, and I, scarce less alarmed, stood rigid, await- 
ing — I knew not what. 

It was as if we were hemmed in by ghosts, so 
noiseless had been the approach of those who 
spoke and, though we heard no footfall, due doubt- 
less to the muffling sand, yet I seemed to feel our 
enemies closing in on us. 

Suddenly the slide of a dark lanthorn was with- 
drawn and in its light a circle of hostile faces con- 
fronted us. 


214 


CHAPTER XIII 


A COMPANY OF FINE GENTLEMEN 

I T would be far from the truth to assert that I 
felt no alarm on that lonely sand-beach, the 
target for a score of unfriendly eyes. Nay, I was 
much frightened, and it seemed a long time that 
we remained thus, in a silence that was broken 
only by the harsh inbreathing of the man who 
held the lanthorn. Then some one spoke. 

“Bash me !” he cried. “ J T is naught but a 
wench !” 

At this they crowded in close to us, talking and 
making game of the man who held the lanthorn 
whom, because he was dressed in a sort of a uni- 
form, I judged to be the leader of the party. 

“ ’T is a fine captain of the preventive men you 
are, Master Hodge,” cried one. “To take us out 
of our beds to net a lass.” 

“An ’t were a babby, you would ’a had out the 
melitia,” said another, at which there was a roar 
of laughter. 


215 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

“Have done!” shouted Hodge, plainly put out 
by this badgering. 

“Nay, ’t is fair shiverin’ I am, with fright ’gin 
the lass turns on us,” a third put in, chattering his 
teeth in mock alarm. 

“ ’T is a gallant man, this Hodge,” exclaimed 
a fourth. “ 'Come on,’ says he in a whisper, ‘ ’t is 
a muckle of the smugglin’ boys I ’ve warnin’ of.’ ” 

“And have we not the goods ?” retorted Hodge. 
“What want ye? Do the boxes no speak for 
themselves ?” 

“Aye, boxes !” cried three or four together de- 
risively. “But no casks nor hogsheads,” said a 
new voice. 

“Naught to wet our whistles,” growled an- 
other. 

“And running hither and yon on the sands is 
dry work,” complained a third. 

“But I ’m no smuggler,” I objected, thinking 
it high time to put an end to this foolishness. 

“Are ye no?” said Hodge. “Then what do ye 
here?” 

“Belike she ’s here to gather strawberries,” 
some one answered for me, and at that there was 
a great laugh and I, too, could not help but smile. 

216 


FINE GENTLEMEN 


“ ’T will be on t’other side of the face ye ’ll be 
laughin’,” growled Hodge at me, growing angry 
under the banter. 

“ *T will be better an you keep a civil tongue 
in your head,” warned one of the men, who so 
far had kept silent ; but Hodge paid scant heed to 
him. 

'‘What do ye here?” he repeated, addressing me 
threateningly. 

“I have just landed and, knowing naught of the 
country, I shall thank you to tell me where I must 
go, and whom I can find to carry my boxes,” I 
answered. I liked not the man’s manner and saw 
that the joking of his companions was apt to react 
upon me. Moreover, I wanted to find shelter for 
the night and the means to go forward upon my 
journey. 

“Fear not for your boxes,” Hodge answered, 
“such as you have given us a bad name on this 
coast and we mean to put a stop to your smug- 
gling. The boxes will be carried right enough — 
and you too, an you make a fracas.” 

My situation, albeit serious enough, had its 
amusing side, too. When I had left England I 
had been taken as a spy by the British in America. 
217 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


Now, after four years, I was returned only to be 
halted as a smuggler. Truly the British were a 
suspicious people. Yet there was more than a 
little evidence to confirm Master Hodge’s suspi- 
cions and even I could not find it in my heart to 
blame him overmuch, so I thought it best to ex- 
plain my position at once and make all plain. 

“I am not a smuggler,” I began quietly. “My 
brother is Sir Horace Travers, of Frobisham, in 
Kent, and I am on my way to him from across the 
seas.” 

But the greatness of my claim made the man 
skeptical. 

“Oh, aye, no doubt,” he sneered. “Natheless 
you’ll come with me, my Lady Nobody of No- 
where and tell your tale to the Squire.” 

“I shall be glad to go,” I agreed. 

Hodge was evidently nonplused at my willing- 
ness to accompany him, but he shook his head 
stubbornly as if he had made up his mind to go 
through with the business, come what might. 

The silent man who had warned him before, 
spoke again. 

“She ’s no smuggler, Bill,” he said, putting a 
hand on the other’s arm. 

218 


FINE GENTLEMEN 


Hodge shook him off roughly. 

“I *11 believe that when she tells me that she 
did n’t come by the Clairy dee Loon,” he asserted; 
“am I to think she plumped down on the shingle 
out of the clouds ?” 

The other shrugged his shoulders not caring 
to shoulder the responsibility. 

'‘Then mind a bit of advice, lad,” he cautioned. 
“Speak the maid fair. A smooth tongue costs 
naught and may save you a rating. The gentry 
aye stand together, and, smuggler or no, she ’s 
gentry. You may lay to that !” 

After which rather lengthy speech he spoke 
no further so long as he was with us. But his 
words seemed to have an appreciable effect upon 
Hodge who scratched his head perplexedly. 

“ ’T is true I Tn new at the game,” he admitted, 
talking in an undertone, “but I Ve made prisoners, 
and up to the Squire they shall go, come what 
may.” 

This decision pleased me, for I felt sure the 
Squire would be a gentleman to whom I could ex- 
plain the situation and who, I doubted not, would 
give me the information I sought as to the means 
of traveling into Kent. I was glad, therefore, to 
219 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


hear Hodge give orders to the others to take up 
the boxes, and forthwith we started off. 

I gained little idea of the lay of the land as 
we stumbled up the beach, but we came upon a 
slight rise and a moment later entered a broad 
road. Down this we went some two or three hun- 
dred yards, halting at length before the entrance 
to a fine park, as I judged from the size of the 
lodge, though I could see little but the bulk of it 
for the darkness. 

We were forced to awaken the keeper and there 
were more parleying and laughter, but we were 
let in and took our way up the long avenue to- 
wards lights that showed through the trees. 

“Hurry on,” Hodge urged. “I ’ve no mind to 
knock up the Squire after he ’s abed.” 

“No danger of that,” some one answered him. 
“Squire ’s not likely to be ’twixt sheets before ’t is 
light, seem’ he has company.” 

But Hodge was for pushing forward, and 
finally we came to the house which blazed with 
lights, a sure sign that there was no thought of 
bed within. 

My captor started for the servants’ entrance, 
but I stopped him at once. 

220 


FINE GENTLEMEN 

'The front door is there, is it not?” I asked, in- 
dicating the large entrance before us. 

"Aye, but ’t is for the gentry,” he answered. 
"I dare not go that road.” 

You may do as you please,” I returned sharply, 
"but I go no other,” and evading a hand he put 
out to stop me I ran up the steps. 

Considering that I was his prisoner, Hodge was 
forced to follow, though he liked it not and stood 
awkwardly, looking very sheepish as the door was 
opened by a tall footman who regarded him with 
supercilious surprise. 

"Nay, now, Rowlandson,” Hodge began, but I 
cut him short and stepped forward with my chin 
in the air. 

"This man has seen fit to interfere with my 
maidservant and myself, and I wish to see your 
master at once, that the matter may be made 
straight.” 

The footman drew back in evident surprise, but 
his manner was entirely respectful. 

"I will speak to my master, madame,” he said, 
throwing open the door of a little morning-room. 
"Will you be pleased to wait here,” he added, and, 
as I entered with Clarinda after me, he stopped 


221 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

Hodge who would have followed persistently at 
our heels. 

“ ’T is not for the likes of you,” he said shortly. 

“But she ’s my prisoner,” insisted Hodge, who 
was a stubborn as well as a stupid man. “I must 
see that she does n’t escape.” 

“I have no intention of escaping,” I assured him 
composedly. 

“And you, Hodge, must come with me and tell 
your tale to the Squire,” said the footman. 

Hodge still refused to let me out of his sight, 
but at last, after much arguing, he took up his 
stand at the door of the drawing-room opposite 
where I sat, so that he could talk to the Squire and 
at the same time make sure of me. It was be- 
cause of this that I overheard all that followed. 
Rowlandson, meanwhile, had crossed the rather 
narrow hall and opened the door. 

Instantly there came the sound of many voices 
all talking more or less at the same time. The 
speakers were nien, and from their tones I knew 
they were excited and gay. 

Now and then there was a lull followed by the 
rattle of dice and shouts of elation or dismay, 
protests against fortune and the like, which were 
222 


FINE GENTLEMEN 

repeated again and again as the game they played 
went on. 

Rowlandson stood at the door waiting for his 
master to notice him, but seemingly no one paid 
the slightest heed to the tall footman. 

Presently there was a louder shouting than 
usual and in the pause that followed one spoke 
whose voice I ’d heard before but could not at the 
moment place. 

“Egad, what luck !” he cried. “You Ve thrown 
nicks twice, Basil. Now my commission is all I 
have left, but that I ’ll keep. I ’ll back to the 
army in the Americas, for I know where there ’s 
gold that will make Billy Bluebones’s hoard look 
like small coin. That I ’m going after, and, once 
found, I will return and go a-courting Dame 
Hazard again.” 

“You have a gay way of romancing since you 
saw the Americas, George,” spoke up the languid 
voice. “This Bluebones treasure was prodigious 
enough but, Od’s life! think you we believe the 
whole coast is strewn with pirate gold?” 

“Nay,” said the voice I knew, “ ’t is not so easy 
come by; but I was on the track of it a year or 
two ago. When I came into my inheritance I 
223 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


gave over looking. Now that I hn ruined I shall 
have after it again, and this time I *11 not give up. 
I know where to lay my hand on information that 
will lead me to the gold and when George Blundell 
makes up his mind in earnest he usually gets what 
he goes after.” 

I heard no more of the talk after that. Should 
I never be rid of this man? Was he to turn up in 
my path wherever I went? I had thought him 
still in America and lo, here he was near me ! I 
could not repress a slight shiver of apprehension, 
though I called myself “a silly,” seeing no reason 
why he should wish to harm me. 

I was brought back to my surroundings by talk 
that concerned me. 

“ ’T is Hodge from the village, sir,” I heard 
Rowlandson saying. 

“Hodge at this hour of the night?” repeated 
the voice which, I had learned, belonged to him 
they called Basil. 

“Now know you not, Basil,” said the languid 
drawl, “that the honest working folk insist upon 
beginning their day as we end ours? Most like 
good Hodge is but up a little earlier than cus- 
tomary.” 


224 


FINE GENTLEMEN 

“A very unwholesome practice,” laughed an- 
other. 

But Basil, whom 1 guessed to be the Squire, 
paid scant attention to these banterings. 

“Speak up, Hodge,” he said sharply. “What 
brings you here ?” 

“ ’T is that I Ve taken prisoners, Squire,” said 
Hodge, “and know not what to do with them. 
You see I ’m but lately ’pointed to be helper to the 
preventive men.” 

“Oh, ’t is business,” cried a disgusted voice. 
“Oons, but there ’s naught brings sleep to my 
eyes so quickly.” 

“They’re smugglers, an it please you, sir,” 
Hodge went on ; “they say they ’re not, o’ course, 
but we ’ve been on the lookout for ’em this week 
past.” 

“Parlez-vouses or our own men?” demanded 
the Squire in a business-like tone. 

“Well, they ’re not — to — say parlee-voos nor 
not — to — say men, neither, exactly,” said Hodge, 
with some hesitation. 

“Zounds ! This grows exciting,” said he, with 
the drawl. “What strange beasts has the yokel 
captured?” 


225 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“Nor not — to — say beasts, neither,” went on 
Hodge, unmoved, “seem’ that one of ’em is a lady 
and t’other her black woman.” 

“A petticoat!” cried several voices in chorus. 
“Have her in, Basil, have her in!” 

“Now, what have you to do with a lady, 
Hodge?” demanded the Squire rather sternly. 
“And why have you brought her here ?” 

From his tone Hodge thought he was being un- 
justly badgered, where he had looked for naught 
but praise. 

“I found her set down in the middle of the 
beach, sir, with a pile of boxes as high as your 
head. And if she ’s not a smuggler, what else is 
she and how came she there ? That ’s what I 
want to know.” 

Hodge had found his tongue and was ready to 
enlarge upon the theme, but the Squire cut him 
short. 

“This is what comes of engaging a farmer for 
his Majesty’s revenue. ’T is some stupid mis- 
take, most certainly!” he exclaimed. 

“Nay, I ’ll lay you two to one ’t is no mistake,” 
the languid voice cut in. “Half the fine ladies in 
London smuggle, an they get the chance. I’ 
226 


FINE GENTLEMEN 

faith, ’t is a regular business with the foreign 
minister wives, and I myself never come into the 
country without wearing as many suits as I can 
carry.” 

“But you don’t have a pile of boxes set down on 
my beach in the dead of night,” protested Basil. 

“I never have yet,” answered the other, “but 
the suggestion takes my fancy.” 

“ ’T is some enterprising milliner. She ’s 
bringing out of France the fashions, without 
which the ladies would have the megrims. Have 
her in, Basil, and let her off with a reprimand if 
’t is her first offense.” 

“I ’ll wager five guineas she ’s no mantua- 
maker,” said the drawler. 

“Done!” said another voice, and then I was 
called for. 

With Clarinda behind me, I entered and as I 
stood upon the threshold I gazed upon a curious 
sight. 

The floor was strewn with playing-cards ; pack 
upon pack had been thrown down in the utmost 
confusion. One could not step without treading 
upon them. Around a great table lounged half a 
dozen young men, some of whom wore long frieze 
227 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


surtouts. Others had their coats inside out, and 
all wore great high-crowned and broad-brimmed, 
flower-decked straw hats, practical in that they 
shaded the wearers' eyes from the glare of the 
candles which burned everywhere about the room. 
Each had leathern guards on his arms to protect 
his expensive ruffles; and every man had beside 
him a wooden bowl for holding money. Some 
were smoking, although the practice seemed 
scarce so universal as at home. 

For a moment I stood there in silence, my face 
shaded by my calash and veil. I was glad to find 
that Blundell did not recognize me, for he sat half 
turned away from me, looking gloomily at the 
wall. He was not in the uniform that I had al- 
ways seen him wear, and I confessed to myself 
that he looked better in his silken dress than in the 
scarlet regimentals of a British officer. 

“Which is the Squire ?" I demanded, in the quiet 
that followed my appearance. 

“I am he," said a very young man, rising re- 
luctantly and giving me a short bow, “at your 
service, madame." 

“I am just landed from the Americas," I began, 
228 


FINE GENTLEMEN 


trying to speak calmly, “and I wish to know where 
I can get a coach for Frobisham, in Kent.” 

For a moment there was silence, then one of the 
gentlemen spoke as if he had suddenly had a bril- 
liant thought. 

“From the Americas? Faith, an it is tobacco 
you have in your boxes I ’ll engage to dispose of 
it all, once you ’ve made your peace with Mr. Sun- 
derland here,” and he indicated the Squire with 
the stem of a long pipe he smoked. 

But I took no notice of him. 

“Is it tobacco you have brought?” asked the 
Squire. “I warn you I am a magistrate and ’t is 
my duty to go to the bottom of this matter.” 

“I have naught in my boxes but woman’s gear,” 
I answered quietly. Whereat there was a great 
nodding of heads among the men at the table. 

“ ’T is a mantua-maker after all,” said one. 

“What I mean is that I have naught but my 
own clothes and belongings,” I added hastily. 

“ ’T is a monstrous pile of garments for one 
female,” Hodge blurted out. 

The gentlemen whispered among themselves, 
nudging each other and smiling, while the Squire 
229 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


looked at me with a frown upon his face. I felt 
almost guilty though I could not tell why. 

“You see my position is a curious one — ” I 
began, determined to tell my tale. 

“Her position is a curious one,” one of them 
mocked, as I paused. “ ’T is most romantical, I 
vow! Horrie Walpole would have loved it, had 
he been here. ,, 

At this there was another outburst of laughter 
and the Squire’s frowns grew deeper, while I felt 
myself flushing and becoming more and more un- 
comfortable. 

“It seems that I cannot make you understand,” 
I began once more, “but I am sister to Sir Horace 
Travers, in Kent and — ” 

“Oh, then you are an English lady?” he re- 
turned suavely, though ’t was plain he did not be- 
lieve a word of what I said. 

But of that I was not thinking at the moment, 
for the question hit straight upon my heart. 

“I English ?” I cried, throwing back my calash 
and veil. “I English? Indeed no! I am an 
American !” 


230 


CHAPTER XIV 

POETRY AND PISTOLS 

N OW as I threw back my calash every man in 
the room jumped to his feet as if he were a 
jack-in-the-box worked by springs, and Blundell 
was no slower than the rest. 

“ ’Pon my soul !” he cried. “ ’T is Mistress 
Travers/’ and striding around the table he was at 
my side in an instant, bowing low. 

“Gentlemen,” he went on, addressing the room 
at large, “I gladly vouch for this lady and will go 
somewhat further to insure her honor,” and he 
motioned toward his sword significantly. He 
was right gallant as he stood there, and I could 
scarce believe ’t was the same Blundell who had 
acted so churlishly towards me in the past. 

“Nay now, George, every man in the room 
would do as much, I warrant,” said the Squire 
heartily. “Had Mistress Travers but removed 
her head-gear there had been no such pother. 
231 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


Hodge !” he cried, turning to my captor. 
“Hodge, get out. You ’re naught but a fool,” 
and that was the last I saw of this zealous leader 
of the preventive men. 

“We do not need you to teach us manners, 
George,” drawled one of the gentlemen languidly. 
“As Basil says, Miss Travers’s bonnet was most 
deceptive; and coming here at night, as she did, 
with that dolt Hodge to tangle our wits, we were 
all under a misapprehension. I wagered she was 
no milliner, but that was because I knew of a 
woman who travels by this way with wigs and I 
was sure it was she.” 

At this even I laughed a little, and, in a moment 
more the formalities of the occasion were per- 
formed by Blundell, who acted throughout most 
courteously, although I could not shake off my 
distrust of him. 

Indeed all these reckless young fellows were 
gentlemen, and the moment my identity was 
established they were ready to risk their lives in 
my defense should the need arise. And yet, an 
instant before, they had not had the consideration 
to get up from their chairs, believing I was but a 
shop-keeper and therefore beneath notice ! I 
232 


POETRY AND PISTOLS 


could not help thinking how different it was in 
America where ’t was a matter of the strong help- 
ing the weak without regard to the rank or posi- 
tion in which they had been born. I could not 
picture to myself either John Travers or Allan 
McLane unconcernedly betting over a friendless 
female who had come to them for help. Still I 
could not find it in my heart to blame these gay 
young gentlemen, for ’t was the way of the coun- 
try in which they lived, and they were ready and 
gallant once the situation was made clear to them. 

It was soon decided that it was not practicable 
for me to start for Kent that night, but Mr. 
Sunderland assured me he would have a post- 
chaise at my disposal in the morning. 

“Until then, Miss Travers,” he said, “I trust 
you will put up with such poor hospitality as my 
house affords. ’T is but a bachelor’s roost, but 
my mother’s housekeeper still lives here and is a 
decent old body who will give you the attention 
you require. I have sent for her and she will 
show you to your room where I trust you will 
rest comfortably.” 

Whereupon there appeared a gray-haired, 
motherly woman who took me under her pro- 
233 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


tection, and with a low curtsey to the gentlemen 
I left them to resume their play. 

On the morrow the Squire, with Mr. Blundell 
and the housekeeper, were up to speed me on my 
journey, and thanking them as best I could for 
their kindness, I started for Frobisham. 

My boxes were strapped behind, and while the 
postilion cracked his whip and shouted joyfully to 
his horses, I settled myself as comfortably as 
might be for the long drive to the Towers, which 
was the name of Home’s place. 

It was a pleasant road through a pretty country, 
but my prejudiced eyes could see little beauty 
anywhere. The trees were small, the roads rough 
and narrow, the streams could not compare with 
ours in America and the very sky was not so blue. 
Clarinda too, shared my feelings, for when I 
pointed out a fine, gently rolling landscape, she 
sniffed and tossed her head. 

“ ’Deed, Miss Bee, I ’dare it don’t take my eye 
nohow. I ’ve been lookin’, hard as I can, an’ I 
ain’t see a watermelon nor a sweet p’tater no- 
where ! ’T ain’t nothin’ like we all ’s used to.” 

It was easy to see that I was not the only home- 
sick traveler in that chaise. 

234 


POETRY AND PISTOLS 

We stopped at a little inn called the “Silver 
Tongs” and the landlord came out and escorted 
me into his hostelry with a vast deal of ceremony. 
Drawers and serving men stood about bowing 
profoundly and I was not a little puzzled, and 
in some wise put out, that so much pother should 
be made over me. I could not see why all this 
deference should be paid to a stranger in the 
country, but it was made plain when one of the 
maids dropped a hint about “the Squire’s post- 
chaise,” and I found out that I was traveling 
in that gentlemen’s private vehicle and that Mr. 
Sunderland was a very rich young gentleman 
whose equipage was well known in those parts 
and who spent his money lavishly. 

It was a graceful compliment the Squire had 
paid me in that he had concealed the fact as well 
as he could, and I tried to maintain his credit at 
the hostelry, though I do not hold with a reckless 
throwing away of money. 

After about an hour’s rest at the “Silver Tongs” 
we started on again, refreshed and ready for 
the four or five hours’ journey that lay before 
us. 

As we went on mile after mile, I began to grow 
235 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


drowsy, until at length my head dropped back on 
the cushion and I fell fast asleep. 

I came to my senses with a start to find that the 
horses were at a standstill and there were sounds 
of parleying outside; but ere I could look to see 
what was toward, the door was opened violently 
and there before me stood a man dressed in the 
height of fashion, a cocked hat in his hand, which 
he swept to the ground with a flourish as he bowed 
to me. His face was masked by a black cloth 
with two holes through which I could see the 
gleam of his eyes. 

“It desolates me beyond measure/’ he began in 
a gentle voice that was both musical and winning, 
“but I must request that you alight. ’T is most 
humbly I entreat your Ladyship, yet : 

Necessity a naughty jade is. 

But willy-nilly she obeyed is. 

Ah, ha! canst cap that, Mistress? ’T is well 
thought of on the moment, and would not shame 
Master Robert himself, think you ?” 

I looked at the man in astonishment, knowing 
not what it all meant, though the mask and the 
request alike pointed only too plainly to one solu- 
tion. 


236 


POETRY AND PISTOLS 


“Nay, look not so cast down,” went on the gay 
voice beside the door, “and pray you do not scorn 
my verses, Mistress, or I shall be the most 
wretched of highwaymen. Remember ’t was but 
strung together on the instant; but, an it please 
you, we will drop into the more sordid business 
at hand ; for, as Master Herrick might have writ- 
ten of me: 

Thy zeal is so speedy 
Has found a way, 

By peep of day, 

To feed and clothe the needy. 

That, I warrant you, has the true ring ; but come, 
your hand that I may set you safely on the 
ground.” 

“What is the meaning of this, sir ?” I demanded, 
though I knew all the while that he was there to 
rob us and could see no way to stop him. But, in- 
stead of answering, he held out his hand and 
bowed again, inviting me to alight. 

I stepped out of the carriage but touched him 
not, at which he feigned deep dejection. 

“See, your Ladyship, how I am undone,” he 
cried. “I vowed to ply my trade with courtesy 
and goodwill and I find ’t is no more acceptable 
237 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

than the coarse jests of Dick Turpin and his dis- 
ciples/' 

But I paid scant heed to his chattering, being 
then intent to discover where the postboy was and 
why he permitted a single man, unarmed so far 
as I could tell, for he wore not even a sword, to 
halt us. But the moment I was out of the car- 
riage the matter was plain enough. At our 
horses' heads, sitting on a great beast of his own, 
was another masked man holding two pistols in 
his hands and looking threateningly at the post- 
boy who cowered before him. This second high- 
wayman wore a huge wrap-rascal, his hat was 
pulled well down over his forehead, and his mask 
covered his face so completely, that not even his 
chin was visible. His demeanor was most threat- 
ening, but he said no word, leaving the weapons 
he held to speak for him. There was nothing to 
be gained from that sinister figure, and I turned to 
the other who still talked and quoted poetry in as 
light-hearted a way as though he were engaged in 
a joyful and honorable business. Never had I 
heard or seen such a man and I confess that 
though I was annoyed I felt no fear and was, on 
the whole, rather amused. 

238 



“ See, your Ladyship, how I am undone,” he cried 





POETRY AND PISTOLS 


Clarinda had been turned out of the carriage 
also and when she saw the forbidding figure at 
the head of the horses she gave a shriek and 
covered her face with her hands; but I brought 
her to her senses by assuring her that there was 
no danger if she did as she was told, at which 
she took courage and looked about. 

“ 'Deed, Miss Bee," she whispered, “this here 
England am certainly a funny place! We ain't 
no more 'n touched the land when we all is took 
up for 'mugglers, whatever that am, and now 
these here thief gentlemens is come along and I 
'dare, Miss Bee, I don't like this here country, 
nohow !" 

Meanwhile our gentle highwayman was pro- 
ceeding to search the carriage in a very business- 
like way and, though his voice was sweet and his 
hands cared for like those of a gentle, he seemed 
thoroughly familiar with his trade. Now and 
then he sang a snatch of a song or a bit of ballad 
while he tossed our belongings about in time to the 
music. At last he came to the purse given to me 
by Captain Timmons from Brother John and I 
thought we would be let go, now that he had 
found the money. 


241 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


He weighed it in his hand a moment or two, 
shook his head at it rather dolefully, and then 
jumped out of the carriage. 

“A find, captain !” he called to the man on horse- 
back, tossing up the purse and catching it again 
so that it jingled loudly, “a find! Dost hear it 
sing?” 

To my great surprise he who sat upon the horse 
shook his head violently and though he spoke not, 
made it plain that the money must not be taken. 
The other pleaded and even started to go his own 
rout and keep the purse, but the horseman leveled 
a pistol at him menacingly and, with a laugh, he 
threw the money back into the post-chaise. 

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may 
Old Time is still a-flying — 

“And *t is the same with gold,” he broke off. 
“Od’s life! There’s little accounting for the 
whims of some. But to work, to work and have 
done with a crazy business!” 

Of all their proceedings this was the strangest, 
for, having found what I thought they sought, 
one of them refused to take money. Here, then, 
was a new kind of highwayman to me and I 
242 


POETRY AND PISTOLS 

watched curiously to see what was to be done. 

I had not long to wait, for after a moment’s 
further look about the inside of the chaise the gal- 
lant stepped back and began to take down my 
boxes. 

“Now,” I cried, going over to him, “there ’s 
naught in them but woman’s gear. Hardly what 
you will be seeking. All the money I have you 
have found, and I own no jewels.” 

“Nay, Mistress,” he returned with a gay laugh, 
“ ’t is not my doing. An I had my way I should 
have pouched the purse and wished you a merry 
journey and a safe one. But ’t is not I who lead, 
and being told to find this or that I mean to find 
it, an it is in your possession.” 

“What is it you seek?” I demanded, relieved, 
but no less angry. 

“An you knew that you might guess how valua- 
ble it is, whereas now you will not learn its worth 
until, happily, it is in the hands of the captain, or 
at least that is what he tells me, though I am as 
much in the dark as yourself. So, your Lady- 
ship, though it cuts me to the quick, I must on 
with the search. If, however, I might make a 
suggestion, I would ask that yon black girl help 
243 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

with the unpacking and so keep the farthingales 
from off the road.” 

I sent Clarinda to aid in the rifling of my boxes 
and waited while he went through them with a 
thoroughness that showed a determination to 
leave no nook or cranny unexplored. 

And all the while he recited bits of verse to fit 
the subject under scrutiny. 

“Ah, ha ! Master Herrick was the man to make 
you a rhyme to fit the occasion and to have an eye 
to finery : 

“Whenas in silks my Julia goes, 

“You remember, doubtless?” he cried, holding up 
a silken frock of mine, then picking out a blue 
cloak : 

“Thy azure robe I did behold 
As airy as the leaves of gold. 

“Faith I know not what ‘leaves of gold’ he talks 
of, but ’t is a fitting rhyme.” 

So he went on until at last, holding aloft a pair 
of satin slippers he voiced the daintiest of the 
verses, to my thinking : 

“Her pretty feet 
Like snails did creep 
244 


POETRY AND PISTOLS 


A little out, and then, 

As if they played at bo-peep, 

Did soon draw in again. 

“All hail to Master Herrick !” he cried, at the 
top of his lungs, dragging out this and that as he 
searched. “There ’s the joy of living and the 
laugh at death in his lines, though he *s properly 
mournful at times like the rest of us poor sin- 
ners.” 

Meanwhile he had separated all papers of what- 
ever sort he found. Some parchment ; some 
household receipts that I had brought from Dene- 
wood, thinking that they might interest Granny; 
a letter or two that I treasured; my little book 
of maxims; in short, any scrap of writing that 
came under his hands. These he placed aside 
in a little pile on the road, adding to it as he found 
things in the various boxes. What he could be 
searching for I had not the faintest idea. ’T was 
impossible to find a solution to fit this case and 
so, perforce, I stood by idly, while our cheerful 
highwayman emptied my boxes and Clarinda 
packed them again as fast as she could. 

At last it was finished and, taking the writings, 
he went with them to the silent figure on horse- 
245 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


back, who, giving up his pistols for the moment, 
examined them intently. The book of maxims 
he searched through, page by page, and so too 
with the receipts and leaves of writing paper, but 
he evidently found not that for which he was seek- 
ing. 

He shook his head and whispered to his com- 
panion with much earnestness, though I could 
hear no sound of what they said. 

“Nay, captain, there is naught else there,” said 
the voluble one positively, and after some further 
parley between them, he came back with all the 
things he had gathered and put them into the 
chaise. Then, seeing that Clarinda had already 
closed the last box, he called the postboy, and to- 
gether they strapped them in place. 

“May I escort you to your chariot ?” he queried, 
addressing me with another wave of his hat and a 
most elaborate bow. “I offer ten thousand par- 
dons for the delay; further I cannot go, seeing 
that we have taken naught, but the road is free 
for you and, though it breaks my heart to see 
you depart, I may not in conscience keep you 
longer.” 

I crossed to the chaise, called Clarinda, and a 
246 


POETRY AND PISTOLS 


moment later he closed the door for us. A crack 
of the whip, a rumbling, slow turning of the 
wheels, and we were off again. 

As we moved forward, our gay-minded high- 
wayman took off his hat, debonair and courteous 
to the last, and I heard a farewell catch sung in 
his sweet, high-pitched voice, but remember not 
the words, for, as I leaned forward and looked 
out of the window a moment at the more men- 
acing figure on the horse, a sudden gust of wind 
tore down the road and lifted his mask, showing, 
for a brief instant, the face of Blundell. 

With a cry I sank back into my seat, at first 
too numbed by this discovery even to think ; then, 
slowly, my wits came back to me and I started to 
puzzle out the mystery. 

What could I have that the man wanted ? Lit- 
tle by little I pieced it out. 

I had heard him vow he knew where informa- 
tion of a great treasure lay and that he meant to 
find it. I also remembered that he had had some 
dealings with old Schmuck, the magus. 

I reached across the chaise and took up my 
little book of maxims. Carefully I pressed the 
silken cover and under it I could just feel the 
247 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

faint outline of the two pieces of silvered paper 
hidden there so long ago. 

“He didn’t find it,” I said to myself, with a 
feeling of triumph, “and he shall never have it,” 
I added, little knowing th&t the day would come 
when I should be only too glad to hand it to him. 


248 


CHAPTER XV 

AT THE TOWERS 

I HAD much food for thought during the rest 
of the journey. The map I had forgotten 
now took on an added value. Once or twice 
I was tempted to cut the stitches holding the silk 
cover of my little book, but changed my mind as 
it would serve no good purpose and put me to 
much trouble to sew the cover on again. I was 
assured that the map was safe and that was all 
I was concerned with for the time being. 

But in the future I hoped to see Blundell pun- 
ished for his impudent imposture. At first I 
thought to tell Horrie of the outrage but when 
my anger cooled I saw that this would involve 
him in a duel as his sister’s protector, and, more- 
over, would disclose my possession of the map, 
which I now determined to keep secret, holding 
that if it was the key to hidden wealth it belonged 
to the American cause. Wherefore I took the 
249 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


precaution to order Clarinda to keep silent re- 
garding our late adventure. 

We entered the gates of the Towers about sun- 
set. I had to admit at once that it was a lordlier 
place than Denewood, the deer park stretching 
for miles ere we came to the great house itself. 
The trees and lawns were magnificent, there 
could be no doubt of that. “But,” I said to my- 
self, “ ’t is not so homelike as Denewood/’ and 
that was the thought in my mind as I stepped out 
of the chaise, leaving the business of the luggage 
to Clarinda and two very grand footmen who 
came down the steps as if it were a condescen- 
sion. 

I went slowly into the house, my heart beating 
a little faster than its wont, for it was a strange 
return for me. I was anxious to see Granny and 
somewhat puzzled over the question of how my 
brothers would like their sister. 

The hall I entered was a huge place with fire- 
place and walls of stone, around which ran an 
oaken gallery with a staircase of the same wood 
at one end. But, strange as it may appear, my 
thought was not of its magnificence. 

“ ’T will be terribly cold in winter,” I said to 
250 


AT THE TOWERS 


myself, and I compared it to our own cheery hall 
in Denewood, which I still reckoned as my home. 

I wandered on, searching for the drawing-room 
where I thought Granny was like to be at that 
hour, feeling a little lonesome and neglected that 
no one was there to meet me, though I told my- 
self they could have no means of knowing even 
that I was in England. Really I could not blame 
them — nor did I, though I could not help but note 
this lack of welcome. 

I took a look into a vast dining-room which 
opened into a vaster library beyond, and, assured 
that I was headed in the wrong direction, I turned 
back. 

As I re-entered the hall I heard a curious thud, 
thud, and there was Hal with a tennis bat, knock- 
ing a ball against the wall as I had seen him do 
outside the Dower House when he was a little 
lad. 

I stood watching him for a while till, feeling 
my eyes upon him, he turned in my direction. 

For a moment he stared, and then his face 
lighted up with a look of gladness. 

“Save us!” he cried, at the top of his voice, 
“ ’t is Bee, with her hair as touseled as ever !” 

251 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


and he ran over to me and, taking me in his arms, 
gave me a great hug that lifted four years off 
my shoulders as if by magic. Hal had not 
changed a whit, and my eyes filled with tears 
and my heart with joy, for I felt his welcome to 
be sincere. 

“ Where ’s Granny?” was my first question. 

“In the drawing-room,” said Hal, eying me 
curiously. “I ’d have you know we ’re monstrous 
fashionable, Bee, now that Horrie is so horrid 
rich. We dine as late as four, after which we 
sit in state — and a great bore it is, I think. But 
how you ’ve grown, Bee. I wonder, will Granny 
know you? Come along, we ’ll in to her.” 

He led the way into the drawing-room and 
there, screened from every draft, sat Granny, 
reading her newspapers by the light of the can- 
dles burning on the table at her side, just as she 
used to do. Beside her was Marlett, her tire- 
woman, and, as I paused to look, all the joyful, 
happy days of my childhood in the Dower House 
came rushing back into my memory. Dear old 
Granny ! How I loved her ! 

I would have waited a moment longer, but Hal 
pressed forward. 


252 


AT THE TOWERS 


“Granny!” he cried, “here's your red Indian 
come back, but she wears so big a bonnet that I 
cannot tell if she has feathers in her hair or no.” 

But Granny was not listening to him. She 
looked at me and when I saw her face light up I 
knew how warm a place I had in her old heart. 

“Bee! My little Bee,” she murmured, and 
would have risen, but I flung myself at her feet 
and buried my head in her lap, the tears running 
down my cheeks ; and, though I cried, ’t was the 
first time since I had left America that, I felt glad 
I had returned to England. 

We shed a few tears together and then drying 
our eyes we looked at each other to see how time 
had treated us. Granny was little different and 
Marlett not at all so. She still looked as if she 
were made of a stiffer material than mere flesh 
and blood and I could not help feeling some- 
thing of the awe I had had of her when I was a 
v child. 

“You have been riding without your mask, 
Miss,” were her first words to me, and I laughed 
aloud, for it might have been but the day before 
instead of four long years, that she had said the 
same words to a small maid of twelve. 

253 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

A little later Horrie came in and found us all 
chatting away for dear life. 

He was dressed very handsome and every 
inch of him showed the macaroni. He had a fine 
taste in ruffles and laces, and I guessed, as I 
learned later, that now the money had come to 
him he made it fly right merrily, and took his 
grand position in the world as became a man of 
his station. 

He greeted me gladly enough. 

“Faith, you ’ve grown finely and will be a credit 
to the family, after all !” he said, in a very grown- 
up way. “I ’m right glad the Colonies have not 
spoiled you; and I doubt not, when Granny and 
Marlett have tutored you a while, you ’ll do very 
well indeed.” 

“A thousand thanks for your compliments, 
Horrie!” I cried back, rising and making him a 
curtsey, “but I fear I shall never satisfy your 
taste.” 

“Have done with your quizzing,” he said 
sharply. “As head of the house ’t is natural I 
should think of these things. At any rate now 
you ’re here the family is together once more.” 

And, in a way, that sentence of Home’s 
254 


AT THE TOWERS 


summed up the whole matter. I had hardly been 
in the house a week before my place in it was as 
fixed as though I had never left it. I was the sis- 
ter of Sir Horace Travers and naught else. 
Though that to be sure was enough to plague 
me. 

I soon found that nothing was expected of me. 
I was sixteen and even Marlett considered sam- 
plers too youthful an occupation for me. There 
were servants a-plenty, all under the eye of a 
housekeeper in rustling black silk and I should 
as soon have thought of ordering the stable men 
about as of suggesting aught to her. Granny 
had her journals, her tea, her chocolate, her old 
friends, and Marlett ever ready to anticipate her 
wants ; I could be of little service to her. Horrie 
was earnest in the affairs of the estate, talked 
of standing for Parliament and rated me roundly 
for my “Whiggish notions on America,” as he 
called them, vowing that the Colonies were the 
King’s to do with as he pleased, and only a silly 
miss would talk of freedom. 

Hal had a tutor for a year and was still a good 
deal of a boy, so that he was more companionable 
than the others. Yet truth to tell, with all their 
257 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


appearance of being busy, there was naught that 
any of them did with a whole heart. 

It was all play, to my thinking. Granny played 
at being a great lady once more, Horrie played 
at being a fine gentleman, and Hal played with 
his books. Compared with John Travers, or 
Allan McLane, or a dozen others of the men I 
had known in America, they brought a smile to 
my lips. How could England hope to hold 
America when her men but played the live-long 
day and the greater part of the night ? 

And, worst of all, I knew that England was 
no place for me. There was naught for me to 
do in this land of my birth, no one who needed me, 
and none to heed my comings and goings so long 
as I followed the rules of fashion and kept my 
complexion shaded in the sun. I was lonely, and 
I longed for the land across the sea where I had 
my duties, my responsibilities, and my good 
friends. Lonely indeed, and there were nights 
when my pillow was wet with tears ere I slept ! 

But I loved Granny and I loved the boys, so I 
hid from them what was in my heart and went 
through the monotonous days with as fair a smile 
as I could muster. Indeed had I told them I was 
258 


AT THE TOWERS 


far from happy in all the splendor of their grand 
estate they would have thought me crazed. 

So for the most part I kept silent but now and 
then I must needs break out, as happened one 
day when spring was approaching and Horrie 
had begun to talk of opening his London 
house. 

“ ’T is then you will see the real world !” he 
exclaimed, striding up and down before the fire- 
place with his hands behind his back. “Od’s 
Life ! I can scarce wait for the routs and drums. 
’T will open your eyes, Mistress Bee.” 

“Nay, my eyes are open, Horrie,” I retorted. 
“Think you I mean to go to balls and spend half 
my days in bed and the other half before the 
mirror?” 

“And why not?” asked Horrie with a twinkle 
in his eye. “What else does a girl care for? To 
be sure you ’ll go, and marry an Earl or Duke, 
I doubt not. An American princess can do no 
less for her family.” 

“Right for once !” I cried, a little nettled at his 
banter, “but she can do more. She can marry an 
American gentleman.” 

“I pray you, step back off the parquet,” Horrie 
259 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

said calmly, “you ’ll scorch it if you ’re so hot-tem- 
pered, and as to London, you ’ll go there, my dear. 
Granny and Marlett are even now devising cos- 
tumes for you to wear — and you ’ll like it, trust 
me.” 

So it always went, and they seemed so satisfied 
with everything they did, and were so ready to 
laugh at my notions, that I soon learned to hold 
my tongue, taking what came to me with as good 
a grace as I could muster. 

From various sources I had news of what was 
going forward with the war in America ; but it al- 
ways turned out that each engagement was a fine 
victory for the British. Indeed, on paper, the 
Americans were beaten so often that I began to 
doubt all such reports, as did most people ; though, 
as a matter of fact, but little interest was taken, 
out of political circles, in what went on in the 
Colonies. 

One morning, however, came news that was 
true. I found on the breakfast table a letter from 
Jack and held it in my hand a while, hardly dar- 
ing to open it because it meant so much to me. 
But at length I broke the seals. 

“My dearest Beatrice,” it began, and I read 
260 


AT THE TOWERS 


the words again, for it sounded as if Jack missed 
me, and that made me glad. 

My Dearest Beatrice: 

You don’t know how many times I have called myself 
a fool for sending you off as I did. Surely some better 
way might have been devised, and Mrs. Mummer has not 
given over reproaching me for letting you go at all. 
Little Peg is disconsolate and goes about with a kitten 
hugged to her breast and I have heard her telling it that 
if it ’s a “g-g-good k-k-kitty perhaps B-bee will c-come 
back b-before it grows to be a s-s-stupid cat.” Even 
Mummer’s face is longer and more solemn than ever, 
and he talks less, though you will scarce believe that 
possible, so you see you are greatly missed. But I, more 
than any, feel your absence, because now when I go to 
Denewood I find it so lonely that Mrs. Mummer com- 
plains that I eat nothing and scolds all in the kitchen with 
such vigor that I cannot help but stuff myself in order to 
save the cook a rating. 

I laughed aloud not so much because there was 
anything so very funny in the letter, as because 
my heart was glad to know that I was not for- 
gotten in the place I called my home. 

“Why, Bee, you look almost pretty,” cried Hal. 
“What has stirred you so?” 

“ T is only a letter from America,” I answered, 
and went on with my reading. 

261 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

We have suffered a terrible blow where we feared it 
least. I can scarce believe it yet, but Benedict Arnold 
has turned traitor! He was recently appointed to West 
Point, as a special mark of his Excellency’s favor, and 
all but succeeded in selling that post to the enemy. I 
have just seen an effigy of Arnold with a noose around 
his neck and his lame leg on a chair, driven in a cart 
through the streets where he used to ride in such state. 
He escaped down the Hudson but an hour or two before 
his Excellency arrived at the fort; and, as his wife con- 
tinued to correspond with him, she was ordered to leave 
Philadelphia. Poor lady so lately envied, now pitied by 
all. 


“Poor lady, indeed !” I murmured, my thoughts 
going back to the night of my first ball. 

Jack wrote me of many trivial things that had 
happened, knowing that I would be interested in 
them ; but his talk of the war in the South brought 
an anxious throb to my heart. 

They are to push it, and Allan frets to be there with 
the troop. I have no doubt we shall be ordered to the 
front shortly and then I must leave Denewood without a 
mistress. Well, the old place has lost its sunshine for 
me. 

I must close this long letter, not knowing when I may 
find the chance to send another. Letters for me, if you 
still remember, may be sent under cover of John Smith, 
Esquire, at the White Horse Inn, in Fetter Lane, Lon- 
262 


AT THE TOWERS 


don, and will reach me at Denewood sooner or later, 
where we all pine to hear that your new home has not 
supplanted Germantown in your affections. 

I am sending you money by this same hand and, if 
you would pleasure me, you will spend some of it in 
having your portrait painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds 
who, I have heard, does as fair work in this way as may 
be obtained. I want the picture for the hall in Dene- 
wood and your compliance with this request will give 
me much happiness. 

Please present my respectful greetings to your grand- 
mother Madame Travers and to Sir Horace and your 
brother Hal. 

Yours faithfully, 

John Travers. 

I told Granny of my letter and she seemed 
scarce interested. She dismissed all news of the 
war by saying that she made it a point never to 
read politics, and when I said something of my 
fear for John when he went South to fight, she 
complained that she felt a draft and asked would 
I get her a shawl. It was not that she did n't 
love me, but all of my interests were so outside 
her life that she couldn’t understand any one 
thinking twice about them. 

So I was off to my room with the letter and 
read it again and again, laughing a little over 
263 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


Peggy but crying a great deal more over vain 
wishes it brought to me. 

I was the only one who was really unhappy, but 
Hal had his gloomy thoughts now and then which 
he confided to me. 

“I tell you, Bee,” he would say, “this thing of 
being a younger brother is a monstrous nuisance ! 
Horrie ’s right enough, but I ’d like to be my 
own banker and spend my money as I pleased, 
beholden to no one. *T is all luck in this world. 
Look at that rake, Merchant — There ’s an ex- 
ample for you!” 

“What about him?” I asked, for I knew naught 
of what he was speaking. 

“Have you not heard of Billy Bluebones’s 
treasure?” he cried in astonishment. “Why, it 
has been the talk of the town this past six 
months !” 

At the mention of that curious name I remem- 
bered having heard it before at Squire Sunder- 
land’s, but I could not recall what was said about 
it and asked Hal to tell me. 

“This Billy Bluebones was a pirate,” he began, 
but I broke in upon him. 

264 


AT THE TOWERS 


“That was n’t his real name,” I protested. 
“It ’s so silly.” 

“Nay, I know naught of that,” said he petu- 
lantly. “ ’T is what he called himself, and no 
sillier than Blackbeard, though I doubt not these 
gentry take up such bloody titles to scare the timid. 
However, ‘Billy Bluebones’ he called himself and 
he did a fine business in pirating. He hid his 
treasure safe enough, for after he died some of 
his followers went searching for it without suc- 
cess, I believe, though you can’t put much faith 
in these stories, and until Merchant picked up 
the loot none but sea-faring men gave Billy Blue- 
bones a thought.” 

“And was a treasure found?” I asked. 

“Aye, that there was, by this chap named Mer- 
chant,” Hal went on, “who ran off from the bail- 
iffs in London and shipped aboard an ill-found 
privateer bound for the Americas. As luck 
would have it, she fell to pieces and dropped a 
few of her crew upon the coast of Virginia, ’t is 
said. At any rate Merchant was one of these, 
but so far gone was he that the others left him 
to die on the beach. And, to make a long story 
short, he came to, wandered about half-daft for 
265 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


a day or so, and then ran flat into the treasure. 
There are a dozen tales told of how he found it. 
Some say he was buried for dead and came to 
life in the pirate's storehouse. Others that the 
gold was washed out by floods and still others 
— but there are half a score of different rumors, 
any one of which may be true. At all events 
Merchant is back in London with a King's ran- 
som in his possession, of that there is n't the 
slightest doubt; and how he found it makes no 
odds, for 't is Billy Bluebones's treasure and he 
is spending it as fast as he can turn a card or 
back a horse. Think of the luck of the man, 
Bee! It makes me long to be out of England 
where all is old and worn out and a man is little 
better than a dog if he rattles not with gold at 
every step he takes." 

“Never mind, Hal," I said to comfort him. 
“Who knows what a year may bring forth or 
what is in store for us? Your luck is better now 
than it was in a counting-house in Amsterdam 
with Mr. Van der Heist to drive you. Had 
Horrie not come into his money you might have 
ended your days there." 

“Aye, there you 're right, Bee," he cried. 
“When I think of those days I feel ashamed for 
266 


AT THE TOWERS 


grumbling that I have n’t the moon,” and he went 
off to the stables whistling. 

In London I found that things were somewhat 
different than with us in the country. It is true 
that there were many macaronis, as the men of 
fashion were called, who thought of little out- 
side their betting, but there were others, who 
came to the house whose wits were sharp and 
who knew what went forward in the world, and 
some two or three who had a hand in shaping 
events. 

It was all very gay and I will not deny that I 
had much pleasure in the jollities of that season. 
Squire Sunderland came and I was glad to have 
an opportunity to thank him for his post-chaise 
and we laughed over my predicament on the 
beach, now but a memory. 

Another visitor was an old friend, Mr. Guy 
Vernon, who had aided me years before when I 
was a lonely little maid on board a British ship 
of the line where he was an officer. He en- 
tered the house one day with a stoutish gentle- 
man whose name I did not catch and, although 
I noted that there were murmurs when they ap- 
267 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


peared, I forgot them in greeting Mr. Vernon 
whom I greatly liked. He and I sat and talked 
together for a while and I rallied him for the 
useless lives the men in England lead and com- 
pared them to those in America. 

Instead of answering, Mr. Vernon called across 
the room to the stout gentleman with whom he 
had come. 

“Oh, I say, Charles, come to my rescue. I ’m 
being abused as a gamester and an idler and you 
too are included in the condemnation/’ 

There was a general movement in the room to- 
wards where we were sitting, as the man named 
Charles came over and joined us. 

“ ’T is the sad truth that you ’re an idler, Ver- 
non,” he said, assuming an air of concern, “but 
I am the hardest-worked man in England.” 

“And pray what is your business?” I asked 
curiously, at which there was a roar of laughter 
from the young men, though it was not joined 
in by the one to whom I spoke. 

“I am engaged in keeping Lord North awake,” 
he answered gravely, and I half guessed his mean- 
ing, for Lord North was the bitterest enemy 
America had. 

268 




AT THE TOWERS 


“Then you are — are — ” 

“Charles James Fox, at your service,” he an- 
swered with a smile. 

“And your America’s best friend in Parlia- 
ment,” Mr. Vernon added. 

“America is my country, you know,” I said, 
looking at Mr. Fox. 

“Then am I doubly tied to it,” he replied gal- 
lantly, and took my hand, remarking at the same 
time, “but are you never going to drive out the 
invader ?” 

“Never doubt it!” I cried. “Even the Tories 
are giving up hope, and their musicians are asked 
to play not 'Britons, strike home’ but 'Britons, go 
home.’ — And indeed, that is all there is left for 
them to do.” 

“But we always defeat you in battle,” a young 
man remarked after the laugh had subsided. 

“Perhaps you do,” I answered, — “in your 
despatches home !” 

“Nay, but we won the battle of Bunker Hill,” 
he protested, while Mr. Fox looked keenly at me 
with a half smile on his face. 

“Aye, that you did,” I retorted, my blood ris- 
ing as I defended the land of my adoption against 
269 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


these Englishmen; “you won the battle, — but we 
have the hill. Indeed you can hold just so much 
of our country as you cover with men, — and not an 
inch more !” 

“Bravo! Bravo !” cried a voice at my elbow 
that was new to me and I turned to see a man 
writing busily on a tablet. “Faith, I love a pa- 
triot !” 

“ T is Mr. Walpole/’ said some one, and this 
was taken by us both as an introduction, and I 
curtseyed my best to one of whom I had heard 
much. 

So it came about, in one way or another, that 
I met some of these gentlemen, who, though they 
played the dandy and macaroni, were neverthe- 
less shaping the affairs of their country to their 
liking. Mr. Fox, for example, though he was 
cordially hated by the King, was also feared by 
him, and so at last had his way, to the great gain 
of America. 

It was with some diffidence that I approached 
the subject of the portrait with Granny, for I was 
not -sure of her approval, but I was relieved to 
find that her views were far otherwise. 

270 


AT THE TOWERS 


“ ’T is a very proper sentiment on Mr. Trav- 
ers’s part,” she said promptly. “I shall write 
to Sir Joshua and tell him he is to have the 
honor.” Which she straightway did. 

One morning some days later a polite note was 
handed to her from Sir Joshua saying that he 
had but lately returned from Streatham, that he 
had much work on hand and proposed a tour of 
the Low Countries, so that he must forego the 
honor and pleasure she offered. 

I thought all was over as far as he was con- 
cerned, and could have cried like a baby had I 
been alone; but I had not counted on Granny. 
She fair bristled. 

“Order our chairs !” she cried to Marlett. “He 
does n’t want to paint her, does n’t he ? What 
right has the son of a preaching schoolmaster to 
have likes or dislikes? We’ll go to Leicester 
Square and see what tune he sings.” 

With Granny to think was to act, and it was 
not long before we were at the painter’s door and 
information was brought to us that Sir Joshua 
was within. 

“Come, child,” cried Granny, and we descended 
from our chairs. 


271 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


For my part I could not see what advantage 
our visit could ga in us. If Sir Joshua would n't 
paint me, Granny could n’t make him, though she 
did sneer at his birth, which, I doubt not, was re- 
spectable enough. 

So I mounted the great stairway, with its curi- 
ous balustrade, shaped with a deep curve to ac- 
commodate the wide sweep of his fair sitters’ 
skirts, wondering why we were there at all. 


272 


CHAPTER XVI 

SIR JOSHUA PAINTS A PORTRAIT 

A S we entered the room there came towards 
us with a very brisk manner a man who 
was below middle height and rather inclined to 
stoutness. His face was pleasant enough but 
much pitted with smallpox and his mouth was 
disfigured as the result of an accident in his youth 
when he was thrown from his horse and a surgeon 
had cut away a portion of his lip. This slightly 
affected his pronunciation of certain words ; 
and, moreover, he was very deaf, for he carried 
an ear-trumpet. All these defects seem to make 
up an unattractive personality, but in Sir 
Joshua, for it was he of course, one forgot these 
misfQrtunes at once. His air was so engaging 
and pleasant, his movements so quick and active 
that he gave the impression of a young man. 

“Now this is good of you !” he exclaimed, bow- 
ing over Granny's hand. “You Ve come to con- 
273 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


dole with me that I am unable to paint your 
granddaughter/' 

“Nay,” said Granny suavely, “I have come to 
you for advice. You see the child's picture must 
be painted.” 

“I am desolated that I cannot undertake it,” 
Sir Joshua put in. “But my engagements are 
such — ” 

“Oh, that I appreciate,” said Granny, holding 
up her hand; “but, not to trespass on your time, 
let me come to the point at once. As you cannot 
paint the picture, to whom would you advise me 
to take her? She is not the ordinary maid and 
a mere journeyman could scarce represent her. 
Take off your hat, child, and let Sir Joshua see 
what I mean.” 

Blushing to be thus put upon exhibition I yet 
complied, while Sir Joshua, setting great horn- 
bound spectacles on his nose, began to hum, hum, 
to himself as he looked at me. 

“Of course, there 's Benjamin West,” Granny 
suggested, and would have gone on but Sir Joshua 
cut her short. 

“She is no classic column to be set like stone,” 
he said impatiently. 


274 


SIR JOSHUA PAINTS 

“True, true,” agreed Granny. “Romney 
might make a success of her,” she went on, re- 
garding me with her head on one side and her 
quizzing-glass held to her eye. 

“You mean the man in Cavendish Square?” 
exclaimed Sir Joshua contemptuously. “No, no, 
Mrs. Travers, ma’am. He would scarce do for 
her.” 

“Then I take it you think we should go to 
Thomas Gainsborough,” Granny remarked, mak- 
ing a little movement toward the door as if the 
matter had been determined, though in truth 
Gainsborough had not been mentioned between 
them. “Gainsborough is the right one,” she 
added with finality. 

“Stop, madam!” cried Sir Joshua. “Titian is 
the right one — but, failing him, you will have to 
put up with one Joshua Reynolds — as well you 
knew when you bade her unbonnet,” he went on, 
shaking a playful finger at Granny. 

“But you have no time,” cried Granny with an 
arch look at him, “and we must be gone.” 

“You ’ll be gone into the studio,” commanded 
Sir Joshua; yet there was something of pleading 
in his tone also. “Think of the pleasure it will 
275 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


be to portray flesh and blood instead of faces 
raddled with powder and paint, and do not force 
me to postpone it.” 

“But the child is not dressed for the occasion,” 
protested Granny, letting him have his way, nev- 
ertheless. 

“ ’T will be all the better if she ’s unstudied. 
Half the charm might go with too great prepara- 
tion,” Sir Joshua assured her, leading the way 
into the studio. 

As we walked in Granny said something of my 
having been to the Americas and Sir Joshua 
turned to me with an exclamation of surprise. 

“Has so young a lady made so great a jour- 
ney?” 

“Oh, yes,” I answered, “there — and back 
again,” I added with a sigh. 

“How liked you the Colonies?” he questioned. 

“They ceased to be Colonies even before I ar- 
rived there,” I replied bristling, as I ever did, on 
this subject. “I believe that the British still hold 
Canada; but we have been free and independent 
states this four years.” 

“Hey day!” he cried, much amused, “am I to 
paint a rebel?” and even as he spoke his easel was 
276 


SIR JOSHUA PAINTS 

set up and a great canvas placed upon it. He 
passed his finger over its surface and seemed to 
forget all about me, talking to himself fretfully. 

“Though I ground my canvases with Indian 
red and black, yet they crack. I am persuaded 
that all good pictures crack and that there are no 
fast colors nowadays. I have even taken a Titian 
apart inch by inch and examined it chemically, 
yet can I find no difference ’twixt his pigments 
and mine. Mix a little wax with the colors, say 
I, and — don't tell anybody," he ended, with a nod 
and a smile at me. 

Then he began to mix and compound his col- 
ors. 

“Tell me about this country you claim as your 
own," he remarked, eying me. “Is it as hand- 
some as England?" 

“As handsome as England!" I cried, fired at 
the suggestion. “Sure, there ’s no place on earth 
so beautiful as America. The sunlight is more 
golden, the sky is bluer, the water is clearer, the 
grass — " 

“But ’tis a wilderness, is it not?" he inter- 
rupted. 

“ ’T is a rich, prosperous, cultivated country," 
277 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

I exclaimed in one breath. “Why, Denewood, 
my home, is the prettiest spot in the world! We 
pride ourselves on our flowers and fruits, and an 
army could camp under our trees. You never saw 
such elms and oaks, such beeches and chestnuts 
and evergreens, ’t is — ” 

“I have it! I have it!” cried Sir Joshua, tak- 
ing up his brushes. “Madam Travers,” he went 
on, over his shoulder, to Granny, “pray, ma’am, 
make yourself comfortable. You ’ll find Miss 
Burney’s 'Evelina’ at your elbow. ’T is a right 
elegant novel and will amuse you.” Then he ad- 
dressed me: “Turn your head more to the left, 
child, and stand so!” Whereupon he began to 
paint, seemingly lost to everything but the can- 
vas before him and his model. 

I stood there for four mortal hours while he 
painted, stopping only to consult my reflection in 
a mirror. While he worked and I stood as still 
as I was able for the aches and pains that gripped 
me, many people came and went ; but Sir Joshua 
gave them no heed. He plied his brushes furi- 
ously, as though he and I and the picture were the 
only things in the world. 

But I who had no occupation to interest me, 
278 


SIR JOSHUA PAINTS 

found much to claim my attention, and indeed 
this helped mightily to make those long hours pass 
more quickly. 

One person I particularly noted. He was a 
great, untidy mountain of flesh who talked much 
to Granny and was continually in convulsive 
movement of the hands, feet or knees; while at 
times his lips would twitch as though he had no 
control over his muscles. With him was a white 
mouse of a man who circled around him from side 
to side as if uncertain with which ear he heard 
him the better. The big man seemed most im- 
patient of him, and the other would retreat like a 
chidden spaniel, always to return in a hurry at 
the first word that fell from the lips of his fat 
friend. 

After a while, as more people came into the 
studio and clustered around Granny, I could hear 
their remarks quite plainly, and it became evident 
to me that they all knew and counted upon Sir 
Joshua’s deafness. It was not that they said un- 
kind things, for it was plain they all held him in 
great affection, but they were unrestrained in 
their speech as they could not have been had he 
been able to hear. 


279 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“The Duke of Rutland gave twelve hundred 
pounds for his 'Nativity/ boomed the big man. 

“An unexampled price !” squeaked the white 
mouse, with a marked Scottish accent. 

“Would that I could earn so much as easily/’ 
sighed a very pretty lady they called Mrs. Sheri- 
dan. “But even yet Sir Joshua is not a favorite 
at court.” 

And so the gossip went on until finally the 
busy painter drew back from the canvas, gave 
one look at it and another into his mirror and 
then threw down his brushes. 

“ ’T is finished !” he cried, and turned from the 
easel so that all might see. 

They clustered around it immediately and as 
their eyes fell upon it a spontaneous burst of ap- 
plause came from them. 

“ ’T is marvelous !” cried Mrs. Sheridan, clasp- 
ing her hands together with the prettiest of ges- 
tures. 

“ ’T is Beatrice !” declared Granny, at which 
Sir Joshua bowed profoundly. 

“I ask no higher praise, ma’am,” he said. “I 
could not improve on the original,” then, as his 
eye fell upon the fat man he greeted him with 
280 


SIR JOSHUA PAINTS 

great affection and I learned that this was Doc- 
tor Johnson who had made a dictionary. 

"He must needs have a great head to hold all 
that spelling,” I said to myself; and, as I gazed 
at him, Sir Joshua led him up to me. 

"You must know my pretty rebel/’ he an- 
nounced; "have a care or she will supplant little 
Burney in your affections.” 

"Nay, now,” said Doctor Johnson, in his big 
voice, "I ’m willing to love all mankind except an 
American,” nevertheless he shook my hand and 
looked down at me in a most kindly way. 

"May I not see the picture, too ?” I asked rather 
timidly. 

"Indeed, I should like your opinion,” answered 
Sir Joshua courteously, and I stepped to the easel. 

Standing off at a little distance I looked at the 
picture, entranced. Sir Joshua had done what 
I believe a true artist must always do. He had 
given me a beauty I had never seen in my face; 
and, for the rest, the figure stood under a great 
tree on a hillside and in the distance was a sunny 
landscape. I looked at it while tears came into 
my eyes. 

Impulsively I turned to Sir Joshua. 

281 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

“ *T is real American sunshine !” I cried, “and 
thank you for making me so much lovelier than I 
could ever be. I am proud to send such a picture 
to Denewood.” 

After a word or two Sir Joshua brought up to 
me a niece of his, a very sweet young lady, by the 
name of Miss Offie Palmer. 

“Is it not wonderful/’ I said to her, still gazing 
at the picture. “To think that in four hours this 
has grown up where before there was but a blank 
canvas.” 

“Won’t you sit down,” said Miss Palmer. 
“You must be very tired and my uncle will not let 
you go until you have partaken of some refresh- 
ments. Yes, he is wonderful,” she went on, “he 
was the first to dare to set his figures in light and 
airy surroundings. Sometimes he has as many 
as six sitters a day, but not often, unless he means 
his drapery-men to do their part. He thinks his 
best work is done in one uninterrupted sitting and 
he is not always merciful to his model — he has 
painted me,” she ended with a laugh, “so I know.” 

A Mr. Gwatkin, who later married pretty Miss 
Palmer, and also Mr. Sheridan, who I was told, 
was a writer of plays, came in and were kind 
282 


SIR JOSHUA PAINTS 

enough to compliment me on the portrait as if I 
had had something to do with it. 

“Sir Joshua prides himself upon the number of 
square yards of canvas he can cover,” said Mr. 
Sheridan, “but I think he has rarely worked to 
better advantage — even when he has had Mrs. 
Sheridan for a model/’ he added with a smile. 

“The picture must be exhibited,” said Miss 
Palmer, as if it were a settled matter. 

“Oh, no, no,” I protested. “It must go to 
Denewood at once; Mr. Travers wants it.” 

“Then, if I am to be deprived of it so quickly,” 
said Sir Joshua, “you must at least promise to sit 
to me again when I return from the Low Coun- 
tries.” 

That I gladly agreed to do although something 
prompted me to add, “if I am in England.” 

I think I had never been so happy since my re- 
turn as I was that day, for the portrait that I was 
to send to Jack seemed to bring me closer to him 
and to America than I had been for long. 

I sang softly to myself, just humming from 
sheer gladness, and I had no warning of what 
was to come as I walked into the hall on our re- 
turn from Leicester Square. 

283 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“There ’s a man asking for you, Miss,” said 
Perkins, one of the servants. 

“For me?” I replied, surprised. “What sort 
of a man ?” 

“I should say he was an upper servant, Miss,” 
was the answer, “but he bade me say his name 
was Mummer.” 


284 


CHAPTER XVII 


MUMMER BRINGS BAD NEWS 

A S Perkins, the footman, spoke the name 
“Mummer,” my heart gave a great bound 
of apprehension and I must have gone white, for 
Granny, following me on Marietta arm, looked 
at me for a moment and then cried out in alarm : 

“What is it, child? You look as if you’d 
seen a ghost!” 

That brought me to my senses and I tried to 
rid my mind of the sudden fear that had entered 
it. 

“ ’T is Mummer, the steward of Denewood,” 
I explained to Granny, and without another word 
ran to find him. 

The moment I saw his long, solemn face I knew 
that he brought ill news. 

“What is it, Mummer?” I cried, giving him my 
hand. “Is there aught wrong with Mr. Trav- 
ers?” 


285 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“Oh, Miss Bee/’ he murmured, “I know not 
how to tell you.” 

He stopped, looking about him as if he sought 
a means of escape from doing what he knew he 
must. 

“What is it?” I cried in anguish. “Has Mas- 
ter John been wounded?” 

“Aye, Miss Bee, and worse,” he answered. 

“Worse?” I exclaimed. “What could be 
worse?” And then I understood that he feared 
to tell me. 

“Is he dead, Mummer?” I questioned, in a 
hushed voice. 

“Aye, I ’m afeard so, Miss,” he answered, and 
I saw the tears gather and roll slowly down his 
seamed face. 

For a moment I was as one stunned. I had 
been the happiest girl in the world, thinking of 
the pleasure Jack would have out of the portrait 
and so pleased that it was like me, and while my 
heart still sang with joy came this word of his 
death. It was impossible to believe ! 

“Why did you say you were 'afraid he was 
dead/ Mummer?” I demanded somewhat 
harshly, for I was not myself. 

286 


MUMMER BRINGS BAD NEWS 

“I ’ll tell you all we know, Miss,” he answered, 
visibly trying to keep his feelings under control. 
“He went with his troop to the campaign in the 
South and fought in Virginia under Major Mc- 
Lane.” 

“Yes,” I answered, “I knew that he hoped to go 
South.” 

“Well, Miss,” Mummer went on, “after the 
campaign there, he volunteered to go with Mor- 
gan’s men, so we learned from Major McLane, 
and there was a battle, a bloody battle, Miss, at 
a place called the Cowpens, in South Carolina. 
Well, Master John was in that battle, and since 
then we ’ve heard naught of him, though Major 
McLane has hunted for him high and low.” 

He stopped as his voice choked and hung his 
head dejectedly. 

“And you do not know for certain that he is 
dead ?” I cried, hope springing up in my breast. 

“Nay, Miss, not what you ’d call certain,” he 
admitted, “but even Mrs. Mummer has given over 
all hope, and ’t was Major McLane bade us send 
for you. Here ’s a letter will explain the reason 
for that.” 

He handed me an envelope and I almost cried 
287 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


out as I recognized John’s handwriting upon it. 
I crushed the seals and, unfolding the paper, read 
as follows : 

Dear Beatrice: If aught goes wrong with me, all I 
have is yours. The papers are all in the hands of Mr. 
Chew, the attorney in Philadelphia, with the exception 
of one document which he will need and that is in the 
place you have the secret of. Faithfully, 

John Travers. 

It was dated the previous autumn and I looked 
to Mummer for further enlightenment. 

“He gave it to me, Miss, telling me I must put 
it into your hands if aught befell him; and so 
Major McLane sent me off to you. I ’ve come 
to take you home, Miss Bee. You ’re the head 
of the family now and — and — ” he stopped, turn- 
ing his face away from me. 

“Has aught been heard of Mark Powell or Bill 
Schmuck?” I asked. 

“Nay, not a word,” he answered, “but so many 
were lost or wounded in that battle that there ’s 
no comfort to be got in that thought. Indeed 
’tis said that Morgan was forced to leave his 
wounded with the people living about there. 
They call it a great victory for us, Miss Bee, and 
that ’s something, though not much.” 

288 


MUMMER BRINGS BAD NEWS 

“And has every one given up hope ?” I asked. 

“Aye, even Mrs. Mummer, who was the last,” 
he answered sorrowfully. 

Then, hesitating, he drew forth another let- 
ter. “Nay, there ’s another, but this will tell 
you,” and he handed it to me. 

I opened it hastily and read : 

Dearest Bee: Don’t you beleeve what Mummer thinks 
is so it is n’t so. Your loving little 

Peggy. 

“Bless the child,” I cried ; “ ’ t is the first good 
word I ’ve had. Mummer,” I went on, near be- 
side myself, “I don’t believe it. It can’t be true 
that John is dead. It just can’t.” 

“I ’m glad to hear you say so, Miss,” he an- 
swered drearily, “but you ’ll come back with me? 
You ’re the head of the family now.” 

It was plain that Mummer thought that John 
was no longer alive and was anxious that I should 
assume the ownership of Denewood, but never 
before did heiress hear of her accession to for- 
tune with so sad a heart, nor could I persuade 
myself, in spite of all that I had been told, that 
Jack was dead. 


289 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“I ’ll go home with you, Mummer,” I answered 
stoutly, “though ’t will not be as mistress of Dene- 
wood, but to search for Master John. I believe 
he is alive and I mean to find him.” 

“I hope you may be right, Miss,” he said, with 
a sorrowful shake of his head. 

“But I ’m sure of it,” I went on. “He was so 
big and strong. You remember when we found 
him wounded after the battle of Germantown ; he 
was sore hurt then, but think how quickly he re- 
covered.” 

“Aye, but a small stone can break a great jar,” 
Mummer answered sadly, “and a little bullet hole 
can let out a strong man’s life. Master John has 
not recovered quickly this time, or he would have 
let us know. He would understand how anxious 
we would be, and ’t would not be like him to leave 
us in doubt.” 

That last struck me as the hardest argument 
to answer, but I put it from me. I did not mean 
to let myself believe for an instant that Jack was 
dead and I repeated what little Peg, bless her, 
had written to me. “It is n’t so ! It is n’t so !” 

“How soon can we start for home?” I asked, 
ignoring Mummer’s croakings. 

290 


MUMMER BRINGS BAD NEWS 

“As soon as we can get to Holland and join 
Captain Timmons,” he answered. “He bade me 
say he would have come himself had I not been 
here to take his place. He thought it was better 
that he should stay by the vessel and so have all 
in readiness.” 

Good Captain Timmons had kept his word, to 
come for me, and was waiting to do his share in 
forwarding me to the place I wished I had never 


left. 


“ ’T was kind in Captain Timmons to come, ,, 
I said, half to myself. 

“And why should he not?” asked Mummer. 
“ *T is your own ship and he your servant, as am 


I.” 


“Nay, now, I shall not have it,” I cried, stung 
by the way he accepted the situation. There was 
no honester nor more devoted man than Mummer 
was to John Travers and the fact that he could 
talk as if Denewood had already passed into other 
hands showed how certain he was. 

“Let us have no more talk like that,” I went 
on, “and until I am ready to call myself mistress 


of Denewood let matters rest as they have hith 



erto.” 


291 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“When will you be going, Miss?” he asked, not 
at all put out by my vehemence. 

“I shall make ready to start to-morrow,” I an- 
swered, “but first you must see Granny.” And I 
led him to the library where we found her waiting 
for me to bring the news. 

“What is it, Bee ?” she demanded, giving Mum- 
mer a curt nod. “Has Mr. Travers sent you 
more money?” 

“You can tell Madame what you have come 
for,” I said, addressing Mummer. 

“ ’T is told in a word,” he answered, with a 
stiff bow to Granny. “Miss Beatrice inherits 
Denewood and all else, under the master's 
will.” 

“I am grieved to hear that your Master is 
dead,” Granny began, but I interrupted. 

“ ’T is not at all certain, Granny,” I protested. 
“It is only known that Cousin John has not been 
heard of for some time,” and I told her of the 
circumstances. 

“And when was this battle?” she asked Mum- 
mer. 

“In January, Madame/’ he answered. 

“And this is late June,” she pursed up her 
292 


MUMMER BRINGS BAD NEWS 

lips significantly. “It is too bad!” she ended. 

“But, Granny,” I broke in, seeing that she be- 
lieved the worst. “I don't care what any one 
says, I 'm going to see for myself and search 
America till I find him, for I know that he is 
alive !” 

“That does your heart credit, Bee,” she an- 
swered coolly, “but it is hardly practical, is it? 
The estates are all left to Miss Beatrice?” she 
went on, addressing Mummer. 

“Granny, don't you understand that I am go- 
ing to-morrow ?” I burst in. 

She looked at me a moment as if she could not 
believe her ears. 

“My child, you are talking nonsense !” she said, 
in an even voice. “ 'T is not to be thought of. 
You speak as if this was an age of miracles and 
you could ship back and forth to America in a 
week or less. Your sensibility is vastly becom- 
ing, but I doubt not that a search has been made 
already.” 

“Granny,” I insisted, and I think I must have 
looked as earnest as I felt, for she opened her 
eyes wide in surprise. “Granny, I am going! 
Let it be understood now. I 've crossed the 
293 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

ocean twice before without hurt and now I must 
go again. Please say I may.” 

“I say, you shall not !” she retorted, angry with 
me for the first time in her life that I remember. 
“What? Have you no love for your home? or 
for your brothers, to say nothing of me, that you 
are so ready to leave us on a wild-goose chase ?” 

“Nay, I love you and I love the boys,” I 
pleaded, “but this is not my home. Here I ’m 
but a doll and not a real thing in your life. If 
I were gone, would your routs be any the less 
well attended? Would your journals be any the 
less interesting? Would your gossip with the 
dowager ladies be any the less lively? Nay, I ’m 
sure they would not. I know you love me, but 
I am not needful for your pleasure nor your com- 
fort, and so it is with Hal and Horrie. I am 
not part of their lives and I ’m tired of being 
naught but the sister of Sir Horace. My home 
is in America where there are those who need 
me; where I have duties to perform, where — 
where, I find myself of some use in the world! 
If I had never gone there perhaps I would know 
nothing different from the life I have led here 
for almost a year, but I have seen that a maid 
294 


MUMMER BRINGS BAD NEWS 


can be more than an ornament and, although 
Denewood is not so splendid as the Towers, and 
Philadelphia is nothing to this great London, yet 
my heart's home is there and I must go. Please ! 
Please !" I ended, and threw myself at her feet, 
the salt tears flowing down my cheeks as I gave 
tongue to all the pent-up longing for America 
that I had kept under for so many weeks. 

I know not what effect my plea would have had 
upon Granny if it had n't been seconded by Mum- 
mer, who at this point brought out a powerful 
argument in favor of my designs. 

“I beg your pardon, Madame Travers, ma'am," 
he said suddenly. “ 'T is not such a useless jour- 
ney as you seem to think. I beg you to believe 
that it is highly necessary that Miss Beatrice take 
immediate steps to enter upon her inheritance, 
or at least put herself upon American soil with- 
out delay. If she is out of the country and does 
not press her claims in person the entire estate 
will be given to the next of kin, or else taken over 
by the state." 

“Nonsense !" cried Granny. “The man 's a 
fool! Do you think we have no law courts 
here?" 


295 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

“Aye, Madame,” returned Mummer, in an even 
voice. “But you forget that we in America are 
no longer Colonies and our courts would hardly 
recognize the jurisdiction of the English.” 

“You ’re naught but a rebel!” retorted Granny, 
though there was less anger and opposition in her 
tones, for she began to understand that what 
Mummer said was true. 

“So you see, ma’am,” Mummer went on, as if 
she had n't spoken, “it ’s most important that Miss 
Travers return as soon as may be. One of her 
own ships awaits her orders in Holland, and, al- 
though it ’s not likely, still a claim might be set 
up — ” 

“Enough!” cried Granny. “I see, Bee, you 
must have your way. Marlett, take the man and 
make him comfortable ; and after that go and help 
Clarinda pack Miss Bee's apparel. Tell Perkins 
I am not at home to any one. These last few 
hours, Bee, my dear, we ’ll spend together.” 


296 


CHAPTER XVIII 


BACK AT DENEWOOD 

ERE were further protests against my 



JL going from both Hal and Horrie; Sir Hor- 
ace in particular blustered about, to which I paid 
but scant attention, for to neither of the boys did 
I feel any obligation of obedience and Granny 
had given her consent. Then, too, the estates of 
Denewood were a powerful argument in my 
favor, for though I think they were not influ- 
enced unduly by this, neither were they indiffer- 
ent to the wealth, and already Horrie said he 
would settle the jointure he had proposed for me, 
upon Hal. Which was generous but premature, 
as I took pains to tell him. 

It was with very mixed feelings that I finally 
said good-by to them all ; for, while I was grieved 
to leave Granny and the boys, my heart longed 
for America, and I was fair mad to be on my way 
to look for Jack. So, although there were tears 
at parting, I confess that I left England gladly. 


297 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


Mummer, in his silent way, took me in charge 
and brought me safe to Holland without adven- 
ture, whereupon Captain Timmons, having all 
things ready, made sail ere we had been an hour 
aboard the Alert . 

On the voyage across the Atlantic I talked 
much to the captain about Jack’s disappearance, 
for I refused to speak of him as dead; and, al- 
though he would nod his head and seem to agree 
with me and all the arguments I put forth, I 
saw, nevertheless, that he but humored me and 
that he was as sure as was Mummer that we 
would see Mr. Travers no more in this world. 

Mummer, of course, now that his mission was 
accomplished and there was no further need of 
words, relapsed into his usual silent self, and 
would sit by the hour in the forepeak of the ves- 
sel, wondering, I doubt not, how matters fared 
at Denewood since he had left it. He was a 
queer and silent man, but his devotion to the Es- 
tate in Germantown was whole-hearted and sin- 
cere and, though he showed little of his feelings 
at any time, I knew he grieved sorely for the mas- 
ter he thought was dead. 

As for me I never once let myself admit that 
298 






T'- 






x: *'■*¥ 










I talked much to the captain about Jack’s disappearance 





BACK AT DENEWOOD 


it could be possible, though I could not help but 
realize that I was almost alone in that belief. 
There was only little Peg, and oh! how many 
times did that letter of hers brace my faith and 
give me courage. “It is n’t so !” I would quote 
again and again, and if I had loved the stuttering 
little mite before, I loved her doubly now. 

The voyage was a prosperous one and we came 
into Delaware Bay on a fair wind that had helped 
us all the way. The heat of midsummer lay 
over the land and as we sailed up the river I 
thought no country in all the world so beautiful 
as this. 

Arriving at Philadelphia Mummer went at once 
to the City Tavern, and there was the chariot and 
a cart for my luggage, which had been waiting 
only two days, so nicely had Mrs. Mummer timed 
our coming. 

We delayed not, but were on our way to Dene- 
wood at once and as we passed the familiar roads, 
lined with butternuts and willows, I felt almost 
happy, while Clarinda was half mad with joy and 
the tune she had been humming ever since we 
left London broke out into a glad song. 

“ ’Deed, Miss Bee, ’t is like the sunshine after 

3 01 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


a hard rain,” she cried. “Why, they all in that 
London town says to me 'you ain’t going back to 
be a slave, is ye ? Don’t you know you ’s free 
just the minute you set your foot in England?’ 
and I tells ’em : 'Honey, what I want to be free 
for? Whose goin’ to take care o’ Miss Bee,’ I 
says, 'if Clarinda stays behind ! I ’se goin’ 
back home,’ I says, 'goin’ where there ’s sweet 
p’taters and corn and a real sun a-shinin’.’ 
That’s what I tells ’em, Miss Bee; for certain’y 
I ’d rather be a slave at Denewood than free in 
England.” 

And I knew how Clarinda felt, although the 
positions were reversed. In England I had felt 
the slave, or nearly that, and I knew I was free 
at Denewood. 

As we entered the long drive the chariot 
stopped and Mummer got down to open the door, 
and a moment later little Peg scrambled into my 
lap. 

“Oh, B-b-bee!” she sobbed, and as I put my 
arms around her I realized how much I had 
missed that valiant little maid. 

“Y-y-you don’t b-b-believe it?” she whispered 
between sobs. 


302 


BACK AT DENEWOOD 


“Nay, Peggy darling,” I answered, scarce less 
upset than she, “but is there no news?” 

“Not y-yet,” she said, shaking her head sor- 
rowfully, “but he ’s s-s-somewhere, B-bee, and 
w-we ’ll find him n-n-now you ’re here !” 

I let the tears flow as they pleased and they 
started afresh as we drew up to the door and 
Mrs. Mummer ran with her arms outstretched to 
receive me. I went to her with a cry of mingled 
pain and joy upon my lips. 

“Dearie! Dearie!” she whispered in my ear, 
as she patted me and tried with all the love she 
bore me to ease my well-nigh bursting heart. 
“Dearie, I knew you ’d come. I knew you ’d 
come,” she murmured, “the luck of the house 
has returned to it, please God, never to go 
again.” 

She led me through the rows of bobbing serv- 
ants, up into my own room, and she and I and 
little Peg shut the door on all the world and did 
our best to comfort one another as we wept in 
each other’s arms. 

“ ’T is a sad home-coming, my dearie,” said 
Mrs. Mummer, when we had composed ourselves 
a little. “How often I have wished that you had 
303 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


never gone, taking your lucky sixpence with you.” 

“But I only took half of it, Mrs. Mummer,” I 
said hesitatingly. 

She looked at me in wide-eyed surprise. 

“Did Master John have the other half?” she 
fair screamed. “Did he have it ?” 

“Aye,” I answered, “and the gipsy said the half 
would be luckier than the whole.” 

“If I had known that I should not have de- 
spaired,” she declared eagerly. “Tell me, is your 
half of the sixpence bright?” and she caught at 
her throat as if she could scarce frame the ques- 
tion, so great was her anxiety. 

“Of course it is,” I answered, not catching the 
drift of her meaning, and I pulled out my bit of 
the broken coin strung from a ribbon about my 
neck. 

She scanned it eagerly and then burst into cries 
of joy. 

“Now Heaven be praised for all its mercies,” 
she murmured prayerfully. “I hope again.” 

“But what is the meaning?” I asked, quite mys- 
tified. 

“ J T would be as black as coal were anything 
fatal come to Master John. Didst never know 
304 


BACK AT DENEWOOD 


that ? He ’s well, somewhere, if he still has his 
bit of sixpence !” 

“I have always felt sure he would come back,” 
I answered, “not because of the sixpence but — 
but, because my heart told me it must be.” 

“Aye! Aye!” she answered. “You had faith, 
as little Peg has it, but they all talked to me and 
said this and that, showing me how he must be 
gone till I could not but believe them, for it is not 
in reason that he could be alive and stay hidden 
all this while. But I ’m done with reason, Miss 
Bee ; now that you Ye back, you bring the luck 
of the house with you and we ’ll live to see Master 
John walk in the front door and I ’ll take joy in 
watching him eat many another good dinner, 
please God!” 

Now while I suppose Mrs. Mummer’s talk 
about the lucky sixpence was but a superstition 
I must confess that, from that day on, I took 
many a furtive look at it and rubbed my piece 
until it shone nigh as brightly as a mirror. 

But though Mrs. Mummer and little Peg and 
I kept our faith in Jack’s still being alive there 
were those who thought otherwise, and there was 
scarce an hour in the day that I was not reminded 

305 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


of it. It was plain that Mummer looked upon me 
as the permanent mistress of Denewood and, al- 
though he never referred directly to the subject, 
matters that heretofore he would have decided 
himself in John’s absence, were brought to me. 
Even Mrs. Mummer, though she protested might- 
ily that she was firm in her belief that John was 
not dead, nevertheless put responsibilities upon 
me that showed a different view. 

At Mummer’s persistent solicitation I went to 
see Mr. Chew, as John’s letter had instructed, 
and though I refused absolutely to have the es- 
tate settled upon me I believe he took measures 
to establish my claims in the event of John’s 
never returning. He, too, shared the general 
belief that Mr. Travers had been killed, but he 
put nothing in the way of my prosecuting the 
search and commended my determination not to 
leave any stone unturned to find him. 

But this matter proved not so easy now that 
I was in America as it had seemed when I was 
in England. Many months had passed since the 
battle of the Cowpens, and where was I to begin ? 
I had sent word to Major McLane of my arrival 
and knew I could depend upon his forwarding 
306 


BACK AT DENEWOOD 

any effort on my part, but, at the same time, I 
saw Qnly too clearly that he himself had neg- 
lected nothing that was likely to bring the slight- 
est news of him we sought. Realizing that, I 
could not but wonder what I could do that had 
not already been attempted and so far without 
result. 

I was relieved to find that Polly and Betty had 
gone to their home in Haddonfield. It would 
have been more than I could bear just then to 
listen to their petty gossip of balls and fashions 
and to answer their questions about London. 
But I was glad that Peg had stayed at Denewood. 
That small and independent person had declared 
flatly that she would not return until her father 
came back from the war, and Mrs. Mummer was 
rejoiced to keep her. 

And so time passed while I did nothing but 
polish my bit of sixpence, and though my heart 
longed for news of Jack I was glad to be at Dene- 
wood, so busy the livelong day that I had little 
time to mope and most happy to be back in the 
country I loved. 

At length came a letter from Major McLane 
and I opened it eagerly. Enclosed with it was 
307 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


something wrapped in thin paper which I held 
while I read: 

My Dear Miss Bee: I scarce know what interpreta- 
tion to put upon this which I am sending you. It came 
into my hands from an old backwoodsman who says he ’s 
had it for some months, not being able to reach me 
sooner, which may well be the truth, for I have not been 
very accessible. His story as to how he came by it is not 
quite so credible. However, this is what he says: One 
day last winter an American officer rushed into his cabin, 
hotly pursued by a detachment of British horse. The 
American handed the enclosed to the man with the 
words, “for Major McLane, Pennsylvania Light Horse,” 
ran on through the house and out at the back in an effort 
to escape. Whether he was captured or not this man 
could not say. He heard shots fired a few minutes later 
in the woods bordering his clearing, but he does not know 
the outcome. That ’s the whole of his story and when I 
pressed him for a description of the officer he could give 
none, saying that it all happened so suddenly that he had 
no real sight of him. I scarce know whether to credit 
this or not, but I could get naught else out of him. 

This seems to show that John was not killed at the 
Cowpens, for it happened some weeks later ; on the other 
hand, if it really were he, of which of course there is 
doubt, it seems all the more certain that he was killed in 
his effort to escape. The shots the backwoodsman heard 
may well have been the fatal ones. 

I wish I could hold out some hope to you from this 
incident but I cannot with conscience, and though I have 
308 


BACK AT DENEWOOD 

not ceased looking for John, I confess I have little ex- 
pectation of finding him. 

Pray command me for any service that may occur to 
you and believe me, with affection, 

Your obed. humble servant, 

Allan McLane. 

I opened the paper and drew forth a broken 
gold chain from which still hung the other half 
of my lucky sixpence ! 

I know not how long I gazed at that tiny, 
broken piece of silver in my palm. It seemed a 
long time, but I was numb and could not make 
myself think. I stared at the bit of silver as if 
I had never seen such a thing before, as if it were 
a curiosity from a strange land, a something to 
be wondered at, but without any special signifi- 
cance for me. 

At length my senses came back to me and, like 
a flash, I knew what it all meant. John had sent 
the bit of sixpence to show that he wanted me, 
that he needed me, that he was somewhere in 
the world. Having no other means of commun- 
ication he had forwarded the bit of sixpence, 
and I cared not what Allan McLane might think, 
nor how irrational this belief was when fitted with 
309 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

the facts as they were known. I was sure of 
what it meant and I would lose no time in going 
to him. My heart was almost light as I flew to 
tell Mrs. Mummer. 

“Look ! Look !” I cried, pushing the chain into 
her hand; “know you not what that is?” 

She took it and I expected her face to light 
up with joy; instead I saw tears filling her eyes. 

“Know you not what it is?” I cried again 
anxiously, for her sad face put a doubt in my 
mind. 

“Aye, that I do !” she answered ; “ 't is Master 
John's bit of the lucky sixpence,” and a tear rolled 
down her cheek. 

“But know you not what it means?” I asked 
breathlessly; “he sends it to me as a summons. 
He wants me to go to him. Is n't it plain, Mrs. 
Mummer?” 

She shook her head sadly. 

“Nay, dearie, that is not the meaning,” she 
said. “I wish I could think it, but this takes the 
last hope from my heart.” 

“What mean you?” I cried. 

“ 'T is clear,” she answered, her voice break- 
ing as she spoke. “Think you, Master John 
310 


BACK AT DENEWOOD 


would part from this if he were alive? Nay, he 
would never let it out of his possession and — ” 

But at that I broke in upon her speech resolved 
that I would not have my faith shaken. 

“That ’s true, unless he wanted me/’ I in- 
sisted. “He does want me and I mean to go to 
him.” 

“Nay, child/’ said Mrs. Mummer, “ ’t is be- 
yond belief, though I wish I could think as you 
do. And do you not see that Major McLane 
would have taken your meaning an it were possi- 
ble?” 

“But how could John have sent it if he were 
dead?” I demanded. 

“He did not send it,” she answered ; “that ’s 
just it. While he was alive he wouldn’t have 
parted with it. That I know! After — who can 
tell what happened? Perhaps Mark Powell 
found it upon him or Bill Schmuck and sent it on 
to let us know the worst, they being, at best, 
prisoners themselves. Who knows what has 
taken place ? But ’t will help not at all to hold 
out false hopes.” 

I gave her Major McLane’s letter to read, but 
it only served to strengthen her view. Now, not 
3ii 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


only reason but superstition jumped her way, and 
she was certain John was dead. 

I coaxed her in vain, but truth to tell I cared 
not so much what she thought as I did to pre- 
serve my own belief that the bit of coin had been 
sent me as a summons. What arguments I put 
forth were to bolster my own convictions, and 
when Mrs. Mummer met them all with a sad 
shake of her head I determined to put an end to 
controversy, and to act! I had been at Dene- 
wood a full month and had accomplished nothing. 

“Mrs. Mummer/’ I began, “all you say may 
be true, but I cannot believe it. I think Jack is 
a prisoner somewhere and has taken this means 
of letting us know. I am going to try and find 
him.” 

“ ’T would be but a useless quest, my dear,” 
she answered. 

“Nevertheless I mean to take it up,” I said, 
and at that she shook her head sadly and went 
out of the room to resume her duties. 

But when I thought about the matter I found 
it was not so easy as it looked. Between me and 
the place where Jack had vanished were two 
armies, one of friends and one of foes. Major 
312 


BACK AT DENEWOOD 


McLane was with Colonel Lee in Virginia, or 
somewhere thereabouts, and so were Bart and his 
father. The only one whose help would avail, 
and with whom I might come into touch was his 
Excellency, General Washington, and though I 
was not inclined to bother him with my private af- 
fairs, knowing how busily he was engaged, never- 
theless I would have set him and Congress and 
all the army on a search for John, an it were 
possible. So I determined to see General Wash- 
ington, to lay the matter before him and abide by 
his decision. 

I had supposed that I should be obliged to seek 
his Excellency near New York, but word was 
brought to me that he had been in Philadelphia 
for several days. 

At this I resolved to get all things ready for 
my journey South, stopping in Philadelphia to 
consult the General; but here I met unexpected 
opposition. 

Mummer and Mrs. Mummer had evidently 
talked the matter over between themselves and 
concluded that, so long as there was no immediate 
prospect of my going, there was no need to op- 
pose my wishes; but the moment I gave orders 
313 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

for the carriage to be prepared and told Mrs. 
Mummer to get ready to accompany me they both 
began to grumble. 

“ ’T is something of a sudden, Miss Beatrice,” 
said Mummer with an impassive face. "The ani- 
mals are needed to gather the crops and — ” 

“Surely there are enough horses,” I inter- 
rupted. 

“But you see, Miss,” he went on, “there ’s 
Lightfoot ’s lost a shoe, and the chestnut mare 
has a strained shoulder — and if you could wait 
ten days or even a week, Miss, ’t would be bet- 
ter.” 

“Nay, I go to-morrow,” I answered. 

“Oh, but, Miss Bee !” exclaimed Mrs. Mummer, 
“ *t is impossible, with all the things I have to 
get ready. Dearie, do not think of it. Give us 
a little time.” 

I knew that these objections were all on my 
account and that their own comfort weighed no 
whit with them ; they believed that I was starting 
on a hopeless journey and would have spared 
me the pain of disappointment. But I was in no 
humor to brook interference and had no mind to 
stay longer at Denewood doing nothing. 

3H 


BACK AT DENEWOOD 


“Mummer,” I said, “I care not if no crops are 
garnered. I start for Philadelphia in the travel- 
ing carriage with two of the best horses on the 
place. And Mrs. Mummer,” I went on, turning 
to her, “I ’m sorry to have to take you away, but I 
cannot go alone, so you must come. ,, 

“ ’T is impossible/’ declared Mummer, and I 
saw by the set of his face that it would take much 
to move him. “I ’m sure Master John would not 
approve,” he added. 

“Would it not do a week hence?” pleaded Mrs. 
Mummer, knowing that with some delay they 
might work upon me to give up what they thought 
was a foolish undertaking. 

“Enough!” I cried. “You force me to give 
orders where I would rather make requests, but 
go I shall. As you insist that I am the mistress 
of Denewood, see to it that she is obeyed without 
parley.” 

They took my meaning and without further 
argument went to do my bidding. 

Of course little Peg was for going too, but 
Mrs. Mummer who, once she saw that it was use- 
less to try to dissuade me, was the same devoted 
woman she always had been, comforted Peg who 
315 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


was on the verge of tears, by handing her the 
great bunch of keys she carried. 

“You 'll stay here, my pet, and keep the house 
till we return," and to this arrangement, as suited 
to her dignity, the young lady agreed. 

There was considerable preparation to be made, 
for we knew we should be gone a long time and 
should have only ourselves to depend upon, and 
Mrs. Mummer, though she still insisted that our 
journey could not bring the joyful termination I 
predicted, nevertheless took a good stock of things 
needful for an invalid, — “in case" as she put it. 
There was no hanging back now, all was ready 
betimes and the coach with black Peter for driver, 
and two stout horses which could be ridden to 
saddle, was at the door. 

Mummer was left in charge of Denewood and 
there were several good women who could be de- 
pended upon, so that I was not worried on that 
account. Indeed I was glad to be gone, for in my 
heart I was sure we should find him we sought. 

“I wish you a successful journey, Miss Bea- 
trice," said Mummer as we were about to start. 
“I only hope and pray you will not be disap- 
pointed." 


316 


BACK AT DENEWOOD 


“Nay, Mummer,” I cried confidently, “when I 
return I shall bring the master of Denewood with 
me.” 


317 


CHAPTER XIX 


HIS EXCELLENCY AND MADAME WASHINGTON 
PON our arrival in Philadelphia we learned 



U to my great disappointment that his Ex- 
cellency, General Washington, had left the city 
for Chester in company with the French General, 
the Comte de Rochambeau. I felt keenly the 
failure to meet him, for it seemed to argue an ill 
beginning to our search, and I expected Mrs. 
Mummer to wag her head, repeating her predic- 
tions that nothing would come of it ; but I did her 
an injustice in that thought. 

“Never mind, dearie,” she said cheerfully, 
“we ’ll on to Chester to find his Excellency. I 
have a good friend in that town who will give us 
shelter.” 

She was so cheery and heartening that I kissed 
her. 

“You are good to me,” I cried, “and I know 
you hate this traveling about, but — ” 


318 


HIS EXCELLENCY 


“Nay, my dear,” she said, patting my hand, 
“ ’t was not on our own account that Mummer 
and I would have kept you at Denewood, but for 
your own sake. That being decided on, there 
was naught to do but see that you made your 
journey safely and fittingly. And be ye mistress 
of Denewood or not, a cross old servant, named 
Elizabeth Mummer, would have gone with you 
willy-nilly.” 

“Nay, you are not a servant but a friend, Mrs. 
Mummer,” I protested. 

“ ’T is not impossible to be both, my dear,” she 
answered with a smile, “though ’t is sweet of you 
to put it so. But to be a servant is no disgrace. 
We all serve, Miss Bee, — some at one thing, some 
at another, but serve we must, and what boots a 
name so long as we do our duty as well as we are 
able?” 

So Peter was directed to go on to Chester and 
we settled down for a long ride. 

As we entered the town I was surprised to find 
that it was filled with troops, all dressed in neat 
and shiny uniforms of white with facings of vari- 
ous colors, which, I learned, served to distinguish 
the different branches of the service. I had never 
319 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

seen any of our French allies before and I could 
not help making a comparison between the gay 
character of these French soldiers with their neat 
regimentals and our own men who were remark- 
able for quickness, silence and, alas, for rags. 

Then too, I wondered that such speckless 
cleanliness could be maintained upon the march 
over dusty roads and in all kinds of weather, but 
I discovered that the French put on old clothes 
as soon as they left a town or city. Another 
thing I heard of them which I thought was fine, 
after knowing something of how the Hessians 
acted, was the fact that the French, rank and 
file alike, were so scrupulously honest that they 
never took even an apple without offering pay- 
ment. 

We found Mrs. Mummer’s friend, a Mrs. Glit- 
ters, whose husband was a cooper owning a neat 
little house in the town, and she made us welcome 
with a right good will. She would have had us 
stop and rest, while she and Mrs. Mummer talked 
together; but I was impatient to be out, having 
a lively interest in this great mass of troops. 
Mrs. Mummer hummed and hawed a little about 
going among them, but when I pointed out that 
320 


HIS EXCELLENCY 


perchance we might come upon some news of 
John she said no further word in protest. 

As we went down the clean, narrow street our 
ears were greeted with volleys of cheers, and so 
clamorous was the sound that Mrs. Mummer drew 
up with a jerk. 

u We ’d best go no further, Miss Bee,” she said. 

“Nay, there is naught to be afraid of,” I an- 
swered ; “ ’t is some good news, I doubt not, and 
I mean to know what it is.” 

I hurried her forward at such a rate that she 
had no chance to hold back and we soon came to 
the French troops. 

I asked one of them in rather halting French 
the meaning of the cheers and he, evidently sur- 
prised and delighted to hear his own language, 
gave me the information I sought most volubly 
and politely. 

It appeared that Lafayette and Mad Anthony 
Wayne had trapped the British army under Corn- 
wallis in the little village of York, in Virginia. 
This town is situated on a peninsula not more 
than five miles wide, lying between the rivers 
James and York, about twelve miles from where 
the latter stream empties into Chesapeake Bay. 
3 21 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


The only means of escape for Cornwallis was by 
water, and news had just come that this retreat 
was cut off by a French fleet under De Grasse 
which commanded the Chesapeake. All that was 
left for the British to do was to fortify Yorktown 
and prepare for a siege by Washington and our 
allies. 

It was an achievement that might well bring 
forth cheers, for with Cornwallis’s army shut 
up in the South, King George was no nearer hold- 
ing the Colonies than he had been three years be- 
fore, when Clinton had retired from Philadelphia 
to take up the position he still occupied in New 
York. Indeed, they were in no better case than 
they had been at the beginning of the war, the 
only difference being that they held New York 
instead of Boston town. 

“And so, Mademoiselle,” my French trooper 
went on enthusiastically, “we await the debarca- 
tion of their Excellencies, General Washington 
and the Comte de Rochambeau,” and he rolled out 
the last name with gusto. 

“And then?” I asked. 

“Then, Mademoiselle,” he answered, standing 
up to his full height, “then we march to reinforce 
322 


HIS EXCELLENCY 


the Marquis de Lafayette and — ” he shrugged, 
“behold the denouement! Do you wonder that 
we cheer ?” 

I did not wonder, but all other considerations 
were swallowed up in my desire to see General 
Washington. 

“And where will their Excellencies arrive ?” I 
asked. 

“The landing-stage is at the foot of this street,” 
he answered, “but I fear Mademoiselle will find 
it difficult to reach.” 

“Nevertheless, I shall try,” I replied, and with 
a few words of thanks for his information, I was 
soon pushing and edging my way in the crowd 
which had gathered to see the allied armies. 

At last the press became so great that I could 
make no further progress and Mrs. Mummer was 
in despair. 

“This will never do!” I cried out in my 
vexation. “I might as well be at home in 
Germantown. J will never see his Excellency 
here.” 

“Now that *s true enough,” said a brawny man, 
who was standing in front of me, in a loud voice, 
“and if you have come all that way ? t would be a 
323 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


pity to miss him. Follow me, Mistress, and we ’ll 
try if we can reach him.” 

He began at once to shove this way and that, 
not roughly so as to arouse anger, but with a 
pleasant word and a smile for those he elbowed, 
and every now and then he would bawl lustily 
at the top of his great voice: “Way! Way! 
for a lady who has traveled far with a message 
for his Excellency. Way! Way!” 

His voice was so big and his smile so winning 
that the crowd gave back, and following his great 
shoulders, Mrs. Mummer and I went on, until 
at length we found ourselves suddenly cast forth, 
so to speak, in the open space before the landing- 
stage, and our good friend, as if announcing our 
arrival at a Court function, gave a final shout: 

“A lady with a message for his Excellency, 
General Washington!” 

At the same moment a boat drew up at the 
stage and a tall gentleman stepped lightly from 
it and, waving aside the officer who stood there to 
receive him, came directly up to me. 

“Is it you who wish to see me?” he asked cour- 
teously. 

“Oh, your Excellency!” I exclaimed, pushing 
324 


HIS EXCELLENCY 


back my calash so that he might recognize me, “I 
am in much trouble/' 

“ ’T is Mistress Beatrice Travers," he said, his 
face lighting up; “I thought you were in Eng- 
land. Have you perchance brought me more 
news of the French?" he asked eagerly, and 
added, “I think this good man said you had a 
message for me" ; whereat my big escort knuckled 
his forehead, vastly pleased to be noticed. 

“Nay, I ’m from Germantown and have no mes- 
sage this time," I answered, at which his face fell 
mightily, and he sighed. 

“I fear I gave way to a superstitious weak- 
ness," he said, with a little drop in his voice, 
which was the more remarkable, seeing that noth- 
ing ordinarily seemed to move him out of his 
calm. “When I saw you, Mistress Beatrice," he 
went on, “I remembered a letter you brought from 
France in a time of stress and doubt, and though 
there was no reason why I should have thought 
so, I hoped you had word of the French fleet 
which I—" 

“Your Excellency," I interrupted, clasping my 
hands in excitement, “know you not that De 
Grasse is in the Chesapeake?" 

325 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“Is it true?” he cried in a loud voice, his eyes 
blazing, the calm and dignified general we all 
knew fast disappearing. 

“Aye, your Excellency, 9 1 is true, every one 
here knows it.” 

But I was talking to the empty air, his Excel- 
lency, General George Washington, Commander 
in Chief of all the armies in America, had thrown 
up his hat and was shouting like a boy. He ran 
to the edge of the landing and began to wave 
frantically to another boat that was bringing 
General Rochambeau across the river. For a 
full minute our General jumped about and waved 
his arms, crying the joyful news till those 
ashore joined in the cheer and the shouts echoed 
and re-echoed across the waters. It was said on 
good authority that the Comte de Rochambeau, 
seeing General Washington capering on the shore 
like a boy, thought for sure that his Excellency 
had gone mad, as well he might ; but when people 
tell me that story I always answer them that the 
Count himself, whatever he may have thought of 
Washington, was scarce less moved when he was 
told the news. And they had cause for rejoicing; 
but sure it was a strange sight to see General 
326 



v > 






He began to wave frantically to another boat 



HIS EXCELLENCY 

Washington stirred from the calm which was 
his habit. 

“And there is the maid who gave me the 
word !” cried the General, as he brought the Comte 
de Rochambeau up to me. 

“Mademoiselle was born under a lucky star,” 
said the Count, kissing my hand ; and Mrs. Mum- 
mer, dropping her curtsey, nodded her head em- 
phatically. 

The two great men drew off for a time, the 
General begging me to hold them excused for a 
moment, but in a little while he came back to me. 

“And now what service can I render you, 
Mistress Beatrice,” he asked, “for you have 
brought news that has gladdened my heart more 
than tongue can tell and I owed you much 
already.” 

“I have set out to find John Travers,” I an- 
swered, and at the words his face fell into lines 
of sympathy and sorrow. “I know ’t is thought 
that he is dead, your Excellency,” I went on, “but 
I cannot believe it, so I have come to ask you what 
I ought to do.” 

He stood silent a while, looking down at me 
with grave eyes. 


329 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“I have mourned John Travers as dead,” he 
said finally. “He was a gallant officer and a 
great favorite of Madame Washington’s. Do I 
understand that you have heard he is alive ?” 

“Nay, we have heard naught,” I answered, 
“and every one, save little Peggy Travers, has 
bidden me stay at home and take over the estates. 
No one else will believe that he is not dead. And 
so, knowing that I must search for him, I came to 
ask you how I should proceed.” 

“And how does it come that you are so sure ?” 
he asked in a kindly tone. 

“Because the half of a sixpence he wore has 
come back to me,” I replied readily. “I gave it 
to him, thinking it lucky, — and I wear the other 
half. Some say that this return shows he is dead 
but I know that he has sent the token as a mes- 
sage for me to come to him.” 

“And have you no other reason for believing 
he is alive?” asked the General soberly. 

“Yes, oh, yes! ” I cried, as if there could be no 
doubt, “my heart tells me!” And he looked at 
me a moment but said no word further of that. 

“And what can I do?” was his next question. 

“I thought perhaps you might tell me whether 
330 


HIS EXCELLENCY 


a girl should go upon such a search,” I replied. 
“All those in Philadelphia have advised against 
it, and I am so alone that I scarce know what to 
do.” 

He meditated for a time and then slowly nodded 
his head up and down as if he had found the solu- 
tion of a matter not easy to determine. 

“My dear Miss Beatrice,” he said gently, “I 
can and will give you passes through our lines 
and a safe-conduct that will assure your protec- 
tion wherever the American forces lie. That I 
will gladly do. But as to your going, I am but a 
rough soldier and, in a matter of hearts, I know 
one who can advise you better than I or any other. 
Go to Madame Washington and tell her. She will 
know what is best.” 

“I had thought to go to Major McLane,” I 
murmured, half protestingly, for I remembered 
that it was Madame Washington who had ad- 
vised Jack to send me to England and I bore her a 
little grudge on that account. 

“Mount Vernon will not be much out of your 
road particularly as you will find all the boats on 
the Elk and at Baltimore engaged with the army,” 
he said. “Go to Madame Washington, Mistress 
33i 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


Beatrice, and be assured you will find sympathy 
and understanding. A night there will scarce 
halt your search. I would bid you come with me, 
for I go there now for the first time in six years, 
but the Count accompanies me and we shall be 
obliged to ride too fast for a lady. Will you go?” 
he ended. 

“Yes, gladly, your Excellency,” I answered. 

He asked where I was stopping and, calling an 
aide, gave directions that certain papers be made 
out for my safe conduct; then he turned to say 
good-by to me. 

“God prosper your search, Miss Beatrice. 
Such faith as yours deserves reward,” and taking 
my hand for a moment, he bowed over it. Then 
I turned back into the town. 

I met with naught but kindness on my way to 
Mount Vernon, and so pleasant were the people 
with whom we came in contact, and so beautiful 
were some of the places through which we passed 
that even Mrs. Mummer consented to praise them, 
though there was the never failing remark at the 
end that “nothing compared to Denewood.” 

Mount Vernon itself was a very noble resi- 
dence, and (here I but repeat Mrs. Mummer) 
332 


HIS EXCELLENCY 


except for Denewood, the finest mansion I had 
seen in America. It stood on a natural terrace 
overlooking a river which I think is called the 
Potomac and in this it certainly surpasses our 
estate in Germantown, for we lack the water. 
The great expanse of fertile land would, I am 
sure, have delighted Mummer, who was at heart 
a farmer ; but, though *t was splendid, I like a 
more rugged landscape. 

His Excellency had given warning of my com- 
ing and Madame Washington was at the door to 
welcome me as we drove slowly up to the man- 
sion. She embraced me with a wholesome friend- 
liness that made me at home at once, and had a 
kindly word for Mrs. Mummer who vowed ever 
afterward that she was the best housekeeper 
in the land, than which she had no higher 
praise. 

Madame Washington was a very dignified little 
lady, with naturally white hair that needed no 
powder. She was plump and might have seemed 
insignificant, had she not carried herself with a 
certain majesty that compelled respect and ad- 
miration in spite of her short stature. 

To me she was all tenderness, listening to what 

333 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


I had to tell her with sympathy and understand- 
ing, as the General had told me she would. 

“I wish that I could keep you with me, child, ” 
she said at the end, “but I myself am wont to 
hear the first and last guns of every campaign, 
and I know too well the horror of sitting still and 
doing nothing. We women have no easy part to 
play in war.” 

“And you do not think I am a foolish maid to 
undertake this search?” I asked, a little trem- 
ulously, for though I meant to go, whether or no, 
I did crave the encouragement that would come 
from the approbation of an older woman. 

“Nay, my child,” she answered heartily, “I 
urge you to go, for until we know to a certainty 
just what has happened, the promptings of your 
heart are as likely to be right as the reasonings 
of those who have no more information than you. 
’T would not be an unheard-of thing for Jack 
Travers to return to us well and hearty. Indeed 
I have known of many cases during wars where 
men given up for lost have come back after years 
of absence. No, my dear, I would not think of 
staying you, and the General sees no reason to 
believe that you will not be as safe with the 
army as you would be in your own Denewood.” 
334 


HIS EXCELLENCY 


“Oh, thank you ! thank you !” I cried, tears fill- 
ing my eyes. “Now I can forgive you for having 
advised Jack to send me to England.” 

The words popped out before I thought and for 
a moment I looked to see Madame Washington 
show offense, but she smiled the sunniest of 
smiles and I knew my indiscretion was over- 
looked. 

“I thought perhaps you would bear me some 
ill-will for that,” she said gaily. “Ah well, my 
idear, you are a child still, but some day you will 
understand why I told John Travers that ’t was 
his duty to send you to England. I think I am 
not betraying a confidence when I say that he 
wanted to keep you and argued valiantly against 
my advice after he had sought it : which you will 
find is the way of men. However,, that you are 
here to-day proves that we were both right.” 

On the morrow I was sped upon my way with 
equal kindliness. 

“Here is a little note which you will do me the 
favor to deliver to Mr. Washington when you 
come upon him at Yorktown,” said Madame 
Washington. “You will find lunch in the basket.” 

She kissed me heartily as I was stepping into 
the carriage. “If you should see an opportunity, 
335 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


my dear,” she added, “kindly remind Mr. Wash- 
ington for me that he should spare himself when 
it is possible. Some day you will know that the 
greatest of men are but babies about most mat- 
ters and need all the care their women-folk can 
give them,” she ended with her head on one side 
regarding me with a wise little smile upon her lips. 

“Oh, Madame Washington,” I answered 
eagerly, “I know that already! Were it not for 
me there are all manner of foolish things Jack 
would do. He is quite careless about himself in 
matters of health and such-like.” 

“Mercy me !” she exclaimed. “If you ’ve 
learned that so soon perchance I was wrong when 
I sent you off to Europe, but ’t is too late now to 
mend that. Come back to me on your return, my 
child, and I pray you may have Mr. Travers with 
you.” 

She waved her hand to me as we drove away 
and I watched her for as long as she was in sight, 
standing on the piazza of the mansion between the 
tall columns before the entrance. I wish I could 
have thanked her adequately for the courage her 
words had given me and for the light heart I took 
with me as I proceeded on my journey. 

336 


CHAPTER XX 

A BROKEN BARGAIN 

I T was plain to any one who traveled that part 
of the country in the year of our Lord 1781 
that some great event was going forward. All 
roads seemed to be leading toward Yorktown and 
every one of them was filled with soldiers all 
hurrying on with gay shouts and prophecies of 
victory. 

And I, too, hurried on ; but I confess that I was 
less interested in the war than I was in finding 
Allan McLane and learning if he had any word of 
John. 

At last I overtook him, leading his troop out of 
Williamsburg where he had been stationed, — a 
huge man, astride a great horse, towering above 
those around him. 

It was with some little difficulty that we got 
the coach near to him, but when I leaned out and 
called he reined up with a cry of welcome. 

“Mistress Bee !” he exclaimed, “I had a special 

337 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


despatch from his Excellency telling me that I 
might expect you but I did not look for you till 
to-morrow.” 

“And have you any news of John?” I cried, for 
I could not wait to be decently civil, though I 
counted on this good friend to understand my 
anxiety and excuse my lack of manners. 

“Aye,” he answered, “I have a slight clue, 
but,” he went on, “do not count on it, my child, 
’t is but a rumor and proves nothing.” 

“Is he alive?” I asked, all trembling for his 
answer. 

“Nay, I know not,” he replied, “but wait until 
we come into the camp and I will tell you the 
story.” 

It was impossible to talk with any satisfaction 
there on the road so I was forced to curb my im- 
patience till we could be a little more private. 

Like the thoughtful man he was, Major Mc- 
Lane had secured a small house near the fork of 
the roads at Halfway and installed himself there 
with us, saying, when he greeted Mrs. Mummer, 
that having such a good housekeeper at his com- 
mand he did not propose to live in a tent. 
Though he thus joked of the matter, I knew well 

338 


A broken bargain 

that it was on our account that he made these 
arrangements and stayed near us for our pro- 
tection. 

But I did not wait to settle the small establish- 
ment ere I again begged him for the news he had 
of John. 

“Do not count on it,” he began, “for 't is but a 
rumor, and not even of Jack but of Bill Schmuck. 
It came to me a day or two ago from a man who 
had seen some fighting in the northern part of 
Carolina. I looked him up and asked him of 
John's disappearance but he knew naught of him. 
Then I was led to speak of Bill and Mark Powell 
neither of whom have been heard from and my 
man at once remembered talk of such a long lank, 
gangling fellow at a little place called Salem, a 
Moravian settlement in North Carolina. Being 
pressed he recalled that something was said of a 
sick friend of this youth's, but further than that 
he knew naught. It is my intention to send to 
Salem, but just now we are so engaged with Corn- 
wallis that there is not a man to be spared.'' 

“You think it was Bill Schmuck and John?'' 
I asked. 

“I do not know,” he answered, “but it might be, 

339 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

and I would take heart if the rumor were veri- 
fied.” 

“I start for Salem to-morrow,” I said. 

“Nay,” he began, but seeing the resolution in 
my face he stopped his protest. “ ’T will be im- 
possible in that great carriage of yours,” he 
warned me. “You will have to ride horseback.” 

“But Mrs. Mummer — ” I began, when that gal- 
lant woman cut me short. 

“I can ride an I must,” she put in, “and though 
I will make a sorry figure, I would crawl on my 
hands and knees to have news of Master John.” 

We started early the next day, Mrs. Mummer 
and I upon our own horses, which had been 
selected to go under saddle as well as to draw the 
carriage, and Peter upon a beast lent by Major 
McLane who assured us that though the way 
might be rough we would be in a friendly country 
and could trust to the British staying penned up 
in Yorktown. 

It was a journey of many days there and back 
and poor Mrs. Mummer suffered so severely from 
her unaccustomed mode of traveling that she took 
to her bed for a day or two when at last we re- 
turned ; but the good woman made no complaint, 
340 


A BROKEN BARGAIN 

and vowed the information we obtained was 
worth the journey. 

Of that I was not so sure nor was Major 
McLane, though we established beyond doubt that 
Bill Schmuck and a sick man, who could be none 
other than John, had stayed in the village among 
the Moravians near three months, at the end of 
which time they had departed. The wounded 
man seemed well recovered and though he was 
dressed like a common soldier, the belief was gen- 
eral that he was an officer. Indeed, the descrip- 
tion of him fitted Jack in all things. 

“At least we know he was alive in the early 
spring," I ended my account of the trip to Major 
McLane. “That is something.'' 

“Aye," he answered, with a wrinkled brow, 
“but where has he been since? That's what 
puzzles me, for had he died from a fresh opening 
of his wound, B?ll Schmuck would have come in 
ere this. If he was still too ill to travel he cer- 
tainly would have been able to send word to us 
now that the country is cleared of the enemy. 
And then, where is Mark Powell?" 

“What can have happened?" I cried, “for I am 
more than ever sure he is not dead." 

34i 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


'There is only one explanation that I can think 
of” McLane answered, "and that is this. After 
John recovered, bn trying to rejoin us, he was 
captured by the British and has since been held 
a prisoner. That ’s the only solution I can see 
unless all three are dead.” 

"And if he were a prisoner, where would he 
be?” I demanded. 

"In Yorktown,” he answered, pointing in the 
direction of the fortifications. "If he ’s in the 
hands of the British, he ’s there.” 

"But would they not have let us know they had 
him and offer him in exchange for one of their 
own men?” I objected. "Surely by this time we 
would have heard something of him if he were 
a prisoner.” 

"That ’s true,” Major McLane agreed; "it *s for 
that reason that I cannot believe he ’s there.” 

"If he were in Yorktown how could we get him 
out?” I asked, for I thought of naught but John 
and my great desire to see him. 

"It would be impossible to get him out now,” 
Major McLane replied. "We are not dealing 
with a man like Howe. Cornwallis is awake, his 
guards are well posted and he is splendidly forti- 
342 


A BROKEN BARGAIN 

fied. But we won’t have to wait long. ’T is not 
the General’s intention to sit and starve them. 
Our parallels are completed and we ’ll soon be 
pounding the place down about their ears.” 

“You mean to tell me that you will open fire on 
the town, not knowing whether John is there or 
not?” I cried aghast. 

“Why — why — ” he began, but evidently this 
thought had never occurred to him, “what else 
can we do?” 

“I do not know,” I answered, “but I think war 
is a wicked, cruel thing!” 

“Aye, and that ’s true too, Miss Bee,” he an- 
swered soberly, “but ’t is a stubborn King that has 
forced it upon us, and — ” 

“I care naught for the King nor for the 
Colonies!” I cried, nearly beside myself with 
worry and anxiety. “I want John Travers. He 
is more to me than all England and America to- 
gether,” and I went away rather than have him 
see me cry. 

Nevertheless, in spite of what a maid might or 
might not wish, the destruction of Yorktown was 
begun and from then until the parleys the din 
of the guns in our ears was incessant as shot after 
343 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

shot was thrown into the town and fortifications. 

The curious thing was that we soon became 
quite used to the roaring of the cannon and when 
it happened once or twice that they stopped for 
a little while it seemed so strangely quiet that one 
felt as if something ominous, like an earthquake 
perhaps, was about to occur. 

On the night of October tenth, a French bat- 
tery, firing red-hot shot, set on fire the British 
frigate Charon and three large transports. Many 
people went out to see the sight and I, with Mrs. 
Mummer and our black man Peter, went too. 
We took our station on the bluffs overlooking the 
water so that we had a fine view of the York 
River, and the burning ships made a wonderful 
picture. They were several miles away from us, 
yet they seemed much nearer, and the four vessels 
glowed before our eyes like some huge firework, 
every rope and spar glittering with flame, while 
now and then great shells exploded in the air with 
a shower of sparks. 

We watched the spectacle for an hour or more 
and though I thought how unfortunate it was that 
so much property should be destroyed, yet it 
seemed so unreal that it had the effect of having 
344 


A BROKEN BARGAIN 


been produced for our enjoyment, like a pageant 
created only to be admired and then to disappear. 

That night was the first time I had been out 
to this bluff, though it was rather a favorite point 
for those noncombatants who lived near ; and the 
next afternoon I returned to see the view by day- 
light. The outlook from there was very beautiful 
and often thereafter I would ride out and sit for 
a little while. 

Sometimes Mrs. Mummer accompanied me but 
Peter always went, for he was trustworthy, and, 
though there seemed no great need of it, both 
Allan McLane and Mrs. Mummer were better 
satisfied that I should not go alone. 

Thus it came about that on the afternoon of 
the eighteenth of October Peter and I were there 
and I enjoyed it more than I had ever done, be- 
cause for a day now there had been no firing of 
the great cannon and it seemed so peaceful that 
one would not think war was near us. 

There had been many rumors as to why the 
firing had ceased, some saying that Cornwallis 
has asked a parley and that he was about to sur- 
render, others that it was but a trick and that he 
hoped to gain time for reinforcements to come 
345 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

from Clinton ; and indeed there seemed likely to be 
much truth in that, for some time before British 
vessels had been seen outside Chesapeake Bay and 
we had heard of an engagement between them 
and the French who were cutting off the British 
escape by water. I had not seen Allan McLane 
for a day or two, so I knew not what foundation 
there was for all these tales; but so often there 
had been similar stories that I thought but little of 
them now. 

So I sat my horse, gazing out across the river 
toward the little town of Gloucester, glad of the 
peace and quiet after these days of thundering 
cannon, thinking little of the war and much of 
John Travers. 

I had come South to find him and I looked to- 
ward Yorktown, wondering for the thousandth 
time if he could be there. 

As I sat, Peter pushed his horse close to 
mine. 

“Miss Bee,” he whispered, they is a man in 
them bushes, and he ’s got an eye on us folks.” 

I turned in the direction indicated and there, 
sure enough, was the figure of a man crouched 
behind some bushes ! I could n’t distinguish his 

346 


A BROKEN BARGAIN 

face for the shadows but I could see the glitter 
of his eyes as they glanced back at us. 

I was about to tell Peter that we would go away 
at once, when the man parted the leaves and came 
toward me. 

“Well met, Miss Travers,” he said blandly, 
and as he continued to approach I saw that it was 
no other than Captain Blundell. 

“Stay where you are,” I cried, reining back my 
horse; “I wish to have naught to do with you.” 

“Now that is hardly generous,” he returned, 
though he halted nevertheless, “for I meant to ask 
a favor of you.” 

“And you expected that I would grant it?” I 
asked, dumbfounded at the man’s audacity. 
“After playing the highwayman ?” 

“Ah, so you saw my face,” he said coolly. “I 
thought as much and expected that hot-headed 
brother of yours after me with a naked sword; 
but, though I should have been glad to cross 
blades with him, I was forced to leave England 
the next day. Perchance in the future we may 
have a meeting.” 

“Nay, my brother does not fight with highway- 
men,” I answered, “and further—,” I added, 
347 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

meaning to pique him if I could, “I thought it not 
worth while to tell him. ,, 

“Nevertheless, Miss Travers, I beg that you 
will lend me your servant’s horse,” he replied. 
“ T is an urgent matter with me.” 

“I do not understand,” I said. 

“ ’T is simple enough,” he explained. “York- 
town is doomed and what use could one man be? 
I am taking my chance of escaping rather than 
be made a prisoner — and I tell you I ’ll have a 
horse, whether you will or no,” and he took a 
step toward me. 

“Your pistol, Peter,” I cried. 

“It am pointin’ right at him, Miss Bee,” an- 
swered Peter. “You say de word and I ’ll blow 
his head clean often him.” 

Blundell stopped short, and his face drew into 
the snarl of a beaten dog. 

“Then I’ll be off a-foot,” he said, and saluted 
me with a bow. 

“Nay, you ’ll march with me to Major McLane 
and see how it feels to be a spy,” I retorted. 
“You are not in uniform and you are a British 
officer within our lines. I think the matter plain 
enough to any one.” 


348 


A BROKEN BARGAIN 


He hung his head for a minute and I confess to 
feeling glad that at length I was to have my turn 
with this man who was my enemy; but I did not 
know him nor his resources. 

“Very well, ,, he said defiantly. “Lead on and 
have me shot for a spy, but — ” he paused sig- 
nificantly, “what then becomes of John Travers ?" 

“John Travers !" I gasped. “John Travers! 
What do you know of him ?" 

“Everything/' he replied with a laugh. “Shall 
we go to Major McLane?" and he took a step in 
the direction of the road. 

“Then he is alive ?” I cried, thinking of naught 
but this glorious news. 

' “Oh, yes, he 's alive — now," he replied, giving 
the last word extra emphasis. 

That brought me to my senses, for I felt this 
man capable of anything. 

“Where is he?" I asked, scarce able to contain 
myself. 

“Now that ’s another matter," he answered 
stepping back, and facing me with a forced smile. 
“Shall we go on to the American camp?" 

“Nay," I replied quickly, “if you will tell me 
where Mr. Travers is, I will let you go." 

349 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

At that he threw back his head and laughed 
aloud. 

“Will you, indeed ?” he cried between his bursts 
of mirth. “Now that ’s vastly generous of you, 
but I shall not take advantage of your awkward 
position. Let us go on and have the matter 
settled.” 

It was plain the man had me in his grip. There 
was nothing I would not have given him for word 
of John and he knew it well enough. 

“What is it that you want?” I asked, after a 
moment’s thought, for I saw that it was useless 
to pretend a power over him which could be main- 
tained only at Jack’s expense. 

He stood a while in deep thought. 

“The question resolves itself into just this, Miss 
Travers,” he began, and I knew from the serious- 
ness of his tone that he was in earnest. “I am 
a ruined man. I owe more than I can pay and 
unless I can get money, and a good deal of money 
at that, I cannot go back to England. Now there 
is a certain treasure hidden in this land which I 
mean to have, make no doubt of that ! I have 
been on the track of it for nigh four years and 
now that it is within my grasp be well assured I 
350 


A BROKEN BARGAIN 

shall not let it slip. It is the location of that 
treasure that I want and, unless I get it, John 
Travers is as good as dead.” 

“I do not understand,” I said, as he paused and 
looked at me significantly. 

“ ’T is plain enough,” he burst out impatiently. 
“Some boy relative of yours, by the most un- 
heard-of luck, found the thing I ’m searching for. 
’T was stolen from Varnum in Philadelphia, and 
it was to recover it that both he and I allowed 
ourselves to be captured when Clinton left there. 
We need not go into details of the matter. We 
know that it came into your possession.” 

“What are you talking about?” for I still had 
not the faintest notion of his meaning. 

“Oh, have done with this pretense of igno- 
rance,” he cried in a rage. “ T is the map I want 
and I will have it. Think you I have risked so 
much to be balked by a slip of a maid? You had 
the map. That I know through Schmuck, the 
fellow called the magus. Your rooms were 
searched and nothing found. Then Travers’s 
rooms were ransacked with like results. In Eng- 
land I stopped you on the road to seek the map, yet 
found it not. I sought out your silly Cousin Polly 
35i 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


and was bored nigh to extinction, but from what 
she told me I concluded John Travers knew where 
it was. Well, now I have him and though he is a 
stubborn, stiff-necked rebel and declares he knows 
naught of it, ’t is in my mind he will tell ere I ’ve 
finished with him.” 

At last I knew, and my heart leaped with joy 
to think that after all I had in my possession the 
means to release John. 

“I have the map,” I said, trying to speak calmly. 

“You!” he cried in surprise. 

“Aye,” I replied, “is it so valuable?” 

“It will lead to immense treasure,” he said 
eagerly. “Varnum says ’t is not a pound less 
than a million sterling.” 

“And whose treasure was it?” I demanded. 

“That I care not,” he replied. “Varnum said 
it was a pirate hoard and how he came by his 
knowledge is too long a story to recount here. 
Enough of this. Let us get to the business in 
hand. ’T is simple, I think, and can be quickly 
stated. I want the map. You want Mr. Travers. 
Can we strike a bargain ?” 

“Can I trust you?” I asked. “If I give you the 
map will you tell me where John is?” 

352 


A BROKEN BARGAIN 


“ ’T is not a compliment you pay me, Miss 
Travers/’ he replied, “but we will let that pass. 
Though you cannot trust me I am quite ready to 
trust you. Give me your word that you will hand 
me over the map at once and I will tell you where 
the prisoner John Travers may be found. You 
see I have every confidence in you.” 

“I shall have to go and fetch the map,” I an- 
swered. “It will not take long, however.” 

“I will wait,” he returned, and I prepared to 
ride back to seek the little book of maxims with 
the map hidden in it. 

“There ’s something queer about it,” I said 
hesitatingly, “there is only part of it and — and — ” 

“ ’T will be enough,” he answered, plainly 
eager to get it into his possession, “only bring me 
what you have and I ’ll translate it, never fear.” 

He promised again to wait and I had no doubt 
that he would, his intense desire for the map was 
so apparent. The possibility of having it after all 
these years of search making him chafe at all de- 
lays. 

“Hurry!” were his last words to me, but I 
needed no urging and Peter and I tore at top 
speed down the lane to Halfway. 

353 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

I wasted no time in securing the little book and 
was soon on the road again racing back, for, 
though I was sure Blundell would not go, I feared 
a trick and was on fire to know Jack’s where- 
abouts. 

One happy thought sang in my brain. Now at 
last I was assured he was alive. That knowledge 
was worth many, many maps to me. Indeed all 
the treasure in the world would not count for a 
moment against having Jack back again. 

Blundell was there, ready and eager, when Peter 
and I drew up on the bluff and though the sun had 
sunk below the horizon there was still plenty of 
light. 

“You ’ve made good time,” he said. “Let me 
have the map quickly for I must be on my way.” 

I dismounted, giving the bridle of my horse to 
Peter, who hitched it over the horn of his saddle 
so that he might have a hand free to aim his 
pistol which he still kept in evidence, though I no 
longer felt any fear of Blundell. 

“Now tell me where I can find Mr. Travers and 
you shall have your map,” I said. 

He pointed down the river to Yorktown. 

354 


A BROKEN BARGAIN 

“He is listed among the American prisoners 
there,” he replied with a smile. 

“But he’s alive?” I questioned hurriedly, for 
his answer seemed not quite straightforward. 

“Oh, yes, I assured you of that,” he returned 
instantly without hesitation. “He is entirely well, 
though somewhat pale from living in a cave out 
of the way of your rebel roundshot.” 

“And you think he ’ll be exchanged and — ” but 
he broke in upon my anxious question. 

“Nay, that was not part of the bargain,” he in- 
terrupted. “But when you hand me the map per- 
haps I will be generous and give you further news 
of him.” 

“Agreed!” I answered readily, and I took the 
book and began to break the stitches of the em- 
broidered covers. 

“Is it really there?” he exclaimed. “I think I 
remember having had that little book in my hands 
when the highwayman stopped your post-chaise.” 

“ ’T is the same book,” I told him, and by this 
time I had opened the cover and had taken out 
the pieces of silvered paper. 

“Here,” I said, thrusting them into his out- 

355 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


stretched hand, “this is all I have, but it must be 
what you seek.” 

He snatched at them and turned them over, 
and as he looked at the white side of the paper his 
brow contracted into a scowl. 

“You are pleased to have your jest, Mistress 
Travers,” he said in a voice of suppressed sus- 
picion and rage. “Give me the map. This is no 
time for pleasant foolings,” and he held the sil- 
vered paper out to me. 

“I told you I had but a portion of it,” I re- 
plied. 

“Then give it me,” he snapped. 

“But you have it there,” I answered, indicating 
the paper he still held toward me. 

“Here!” he cried wrathfully, “there is naught 
here!” 

“Oh, yes,” I said with assurance. “I will show 
you,” and taking the papers out of his hand I 
turned over the piece upon which I had seen the 
drawing with the intention of pointing it out to 
him. 

With a little cry of amazement I looked and 
found both of them blank. There was no sign 
of any map upon either of the white surfaces. 

356 


CHAPTER XXI 

HIS LORDSHIP, CHARLES CORNWALLIS 

T TURNED the silvered paper over and over in 
A my hands hunting for the drawing that had 
been there but was there no longer, and all the 
while Blundell stood silent looking at me. At 
length he spoke. 

“When you have done with this fooling, per- 
haps you will give me the map,” he said, in a 
harsh voice. 

“Indeed,” I answered, “it was here when last 
I saw it, and I cannot account — ” 

“Oh, have done! have done!” he cried out in 
so angry a tone that I shrank back to be nearer 
Peter, who muttered something and pointed his 
pistol, whereat Blundell controlled himself with 
an effort and went on more calmly : 

“You gave me your word and I trusted you. 
Now let me have what I seek, for I cannot believe 
that you meant to deceive me.” 

357 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“In truth I did not,” I answered. “I am as 
much amazed as you. I thought I had it here, 
but I have no other map.” 

He gazed at me in silence for a time trying to 
make up his mind whether or not to believe me. 
Then he snatched the papers out of my hand and 
looked at them closely again, holding them up to 
the fast-fading light in the west and finally threw 
them at my feet. 

“Tricked!” he cried out. “Tricked by a girl! 
But it will do you little good, my lady, and though 
you Ve broken your word I ’ll do more than I 
promised. Here ’s information that you no 
doubt will be glad to have. The prisoner, John 
Travers, knowing the uncertainty of his time on 
this earth, planned to escape this very night and 
had secured a boat for that purpose. Knowl- 
edge of this came to me, and, seeing that I was 
in somewhat urgent need of leaving Yorktown, 
I took the boat he was kind enough to provide. 
He will look in vain for it, and being recaptured, 
his attempt will serve as an admirable excuse to 
hang him. There, Miss, is more information 
than you bargained for, I warrant. Another 
time you will do well not to match your wits 

358 


CHARLES CORNWALLIS 


against mine. As for the map I 'll have it or 
some one will suffer. Trust me for that. And 
now, good day to you, Mistress Beatrice Travers. 
I wish you pleasing thoughts while you look to- 
ward Yorktown. Belike, if you take a spyglass 
early to-morrow morning, you may see a gal- 
lows." 

He moved as if to seize one of the horses, but 
seeing Peter's pistol leveled resolutely at him he 
turned away and in a moment disappeared in 
the fast gathering gloom. 

As for me, I picked up the bits of silvered 
paper, only half conscious of what I did. It was 
as if I dreamed. Mechanically I tucked them un- 
der the silk cover and, handing all to Peter, 
mounted my horse, still dazed by the events that 
had just passed. 

It was only when I had actually started on the 
way back that a full realization of what Blundell 
had told came to me. In an instant I had for- 
gotten all about the map and its strange disap- 
pearance and pulled up my horse. ‘They will 
hang him !" I murmured, for it was only too plain 
that if John were captured in an attempt to es- 
cape he would be given short shrift by men like 
359 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

Tarleton. And he must be caught, for Blundell 
had taken his boat. 

Little wonder that I stopped, appalled at the 
thought. I had learned that John was alive, only 
to discover at the same time that he was in im- 
minent danger of dying a disgraceful death. 

“Blundell has taken his boat!” I kept repeat- 
ing to myself, as if the words had some meaning 
that I could not grasp, and then, like a flash of 
inspiration, came the apparent solution of the dif- 
ficulty. I must take the boat back so that he 
might find it and escape as he had planned. 

The matter seemed so clear and straightfor- 
ward to me that I halted Peter at once. 

“We return to the bluff,” I said, and wheeled 
my horse. 

Arriving there I dismounted and scrambled 
down to the water’s edge to find, as I had hoped, 
a boat drawn up on the shore near to the place 
where we had first seen Blundell. 

Back I went to Peter to give my orders. 

“Go to Major McLane and tell him that Mr. 
John is a prisoner in Yorktown and that I have 
gone to him,” I said briefly, and though he would 
have protested I cut short his expostulations. 

360 


CHARLES CORNWALLIS 

“Go !” I told him, “ ’t is a matter of life and 
death,” and that ended all controversy. 

I released the riding skirt which I had worn 
for protection over my dress and threw it across 
the saddle of my horse. Peter now offered to go 
in my stead, but this was not an undertaking to 
trust to a black slave, no matter how willing and 
brave he might be. 

I scrambled down the bluff again and in a 
moment or two was on the river. 

With the wind and current in my favor I made 
good time and, as I tugged at the oars, I thought 
of nothing but the necessity for haste, nor heeded 
blistering palms. 

Nearing Yorktown, the river narrowed till it 
was scarce a mile wide, and as I looked over my 
shoulder I saw the dim outlines of a number of 
vessels that I judged must be British ships penned 
in by the French fleet lying outside the mouth of 
the York River. 

Fearing that I might be discovered I headed 
toward the shore and began to think of where I 
should make a landing. 

It was then that I suddenly realized that I had 
no knowledge of the place where John had 

361 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


* 


planned to take the boat, which might be any 
point for a mile or more along the shore. 

How can I describe the despair I felt at that 
moment? What use was the boat to Jack if he 
didn't know where to find it? I wracked my 
brains to discover a way out of this terrible di- 
lemma, for it was no trivial problem I puzzled 
over but a matter of life and death. 

At length, out of the tangle of my distraught 
thoughts, came a plan which held some chance 
of success. If I arrived in time I might give 
John warning that his boat had been taken and so 
spare him the danger of being caught as an escap- 
ing prisoner. 

To this end I determined to go boldly into the 
town and obtain an interview with him, even if 
I had to brave Cornwallis himself. Nay, as I 
thought more of the matter — and now I was row- 
ing furiously toward the town — it seemed to me 
that it was my best plan to go to the supreme 
authority at once and so save delay. 

I landed at the foot of the blufif, which showed 
black and forbidding with its surmounting bat- 
teries and took my way up the embankment and 
on into the town. 


362 


CHARLES CORNWALLIS 

I had expected to be challenged the moment 
I set foot upon the shore, but no one stopped me 
though there were a number of people moving 
about hurriedly. Lights began to show here and 
there, as I entered the street, and I saw in what 
a sad state the town was. 

It was only a village of some fifty or sixty 
houses, but on all sides there were evidences of 
the destruction wrought by our bursting shells 
and cannon balls. Everywhere were piles of 
stone and bricks, rent from the houses which 
showed great black holes in their walls. Chim- 
neys had been knocked down, roofs torn off or 
burned, trees uprooted, and ruin and desolation 
stared me in the face. It was pitiable to see, 
though the darkness hid much of the devastation. 

I walked on, hoping at every step to be chal- 
lenged, and at length the order came. 

“Halt !” and I stopped before a grenadier with 
leveled musket. 

“I am come to see Lord Cornwallis/’ I said in 
as commanding a voice as I could assume. “I 
have urgent business with him.” 

The grenadier grunted skeptically, but lowered 
his musket, seeing I was but a maid. 

363 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“Where have you come from?” he demanded. 

“From up the river,” I answered truthfully, 
but sure they would not believe me. 

“Humph !” he grunted, “what ’s your news ?” 

“Nay, ’t is not for you,” I answered, “nor will 
it serve you to keep me standing here. I must 
see his Lordship without delay. It is a matter of 
life and death.” 

By this, another grenadier had come up and 
after a moment’s discussion it was decided that 
I should be taken to headquarters. 

“Is his Lordship still in his cave?” asked my 
challenger, with a sneer. 

“Nay, since the firing stopped he ’s back in 
what *s left of the Nelson house,” said the other, 
and with that we went further into the little 
town. 

I found the same ruin everywhere but I paid 
scant heed, and at length we came to a house 
showing damage from the shells, to be sure, but 
not uninhabitable now that the bombardment had 
ceased, and of good dimensions. 

Here we were both stopped and my guard, ex- 
plaining the matter, went back to his post and 
left me to battle with another sentry and to go 

364 


CHARLES CORNWALLIS 

over again my urgent demands to see his Lord- 
ship. 

Convincing the man at length that my busi- 
ness was urgent, I was permitted to go a step 
further, which carried me just inside the house. 
Here I was met by an officer to whom the story 
was retold once more. 

This gentleman shook his head. 

“I regret to refuse you, Mistress,” he said, 
“but ’t is worth my life to disturb him now. 
He ’s in a furious temper, as well he may be, and 
none of us dare go near him.” 

“I dare,” I answered, for with all this delay 
my anxiety had become extreme and these wasted 
minutes might be fatal. 

“Tell me where he can be found for I must see 
him. As I said it is a matter of life and death.” 

The officer, noting the earnestness of my man- 
ner, softened a little but still shook his head dubi- 
ously. 

“I do not dare,” he murmured under his breath, 
“but,” he went on, “if you should find your way 
to the door at the head of the stairs, — and there 
is no one to stop you once you pass here, — you 
would find his Lordship within and alone.” 

365 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


And with that to my great surprise he bowed 
and left me abruptly. 

His meaning was plain enough and I lost no 
time in putting his suggestion into effect. In a 
moment I had crossed the hall and was climbing 
the steps. 

As I reached the landing above I was in no 
doubt about which door was the right one, for 
I heard the sound of heavy footsteps tramping 
back and forth and now and then the spoken 
words of a man somewhat distraught. 

I paused at the door with my hand raised to 
knock, when the voice inside was lifted to a loud 
pitch. 

“He gave me two hours, the rebel !” came the 
words punctuated with the steady tramp, tramp, 
as he walked up and down the room. “Two 
hours or be blown to bits ! And Clinton sits idle 
in New York. Oh, fool, fool, that I was to heed 
him ! But I 'll never hand my sword to a rebel. 
Never ! Never !” 

I waited no longer but gave the door a right 
good thump. The pacing to and fro stopped and 
in the silence I knocked again. 

“Oh, give me peace, peace !” came the cry, in 

366 


CHARLES CORNWALLIS 

a furious voice. “Go away and give me peace! 
I can do naught for any one in this land.” I 
heard a chair grate on the floor and the sound 
of a heavy man seating himself, and, not with- 
out some fear, I pushed the door open and en- 
tered the room. 

Cornwallis was seated at a table, the picture of 
intense dejection, his head bowed in his hands. 
He was a short, thick-set man with hair some- 
what gray, and his attitude showed that he was 
worn and broken. 

I stood for a moment a little fearful of what 
was before me, but was about to address him 
when he raised his head and looked at me. It 
was plain he could scarce believe his eyes, — then, 
realizing that I was indeed flesh and blood, he 
rose to his feet and made me a slight bow. Con- 
sidering the circumstances I have always thought 
that his courtesy at that moment to a maid who 
had intruded upon him showed all the traits of a 
fine gentleman. 

I made him a deep curtsey and to forestall the 
question upon his lips I told him why I was there. 

“I have come to ask a favor of your Lordship,” 
I said in as humble a tone as I could command. 

367 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“Is there any one in the land so poor that Corn- 
wallis can do her a favor?” he questioned, his 
voice so sad that even above my own anxiety I 
could not but feel a deep pity for him, though at 
the time I did not know why he was so down- 
cast. 

“You can make me the happiest maid in all the 
land, an you will, your Lordship,” I answered. 

“What is it you wish?” he asked. 

“To see my cousin, Captain John Travers,” I 
replied. “ ’T is not much, your Lordship. I do 
not ask that he be let go, but it has been so long 
since I have seen him and — and — ” 

“How knew you that he was here?” asked 
Cornwallis, with a wrinkled forehead. 

“I learned it this afternoon, your Lordship.” 

“And from whom?” 

“From Captain Blundell,” I began, but he cut 
me short. 

“Why, it was he who wished the matter kept 
so secret,” he insisted. “Where did you see 
Blundell?” 

“Above the town,” I answered. “He was not 
in uniform and said that he was leaving York- 
town.” 


368 


CHARLES CORNWALLIS 

“Aye, he ’s another of the rats that are ready 
to desert the sinking ship,” cried Cornwallis bit- 
terly. “So he told you, did he ? I warrant ’t was 
in no spirit of kindness, if I know the man. He 
asked that Captain Travers’s name be kept off 
the list of prisoners — for some private reason, I 
doubt not, though he represented that the man 
had much valuable information that, with pa- 
tience, could be procured. I have never seen Cap- 
tain Travers, but I will take this occasion of doing 
you a service and meeting him at the same 
time.” 

He waved me to a chair and going out of the 
room I heard him shout an order to those below. 
Then the sound of running men came to me, 
showing that there were many eager to obey him. 

“Be quick about it,” were his last words as he 
came back into the room. 

How can I describe the anxiety of those next 
few minutes? Would they be in time to stop 
John before he attempted his escape? I hoped 
against hope. 

Lord Cornwallis paced the room a time or two 
and almost seemed to forget my presence; then 
he would recollect and make an effort to say 

369 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


something pleasant, offering his regrets that I 
had suffered such prolonged anxiety. 

“ ’T is of course, one of the unfortunate neces- 
sities of war,” he said, “but all 9 s well that ends 
well, and at least you will see that your cousin is 
not dead.” 

As we talked there came the noise of numerous 
feet in the hallway below, an order was given, 
and again Cornwallis left the room. 

“Release your prisoner and let him come up 
alone,” he commanded. 

It was all I could do to smother the cry of joy 
that rose in my throat. I had been in time and 
now I was to see John again. After all I had 
been through it was as if the dead had come to 
life. 

“Captain Travers,” I heard Cornwallis say, 
“I bid you enter first. There is one there who is 
most anxious to see you.” 

I rose to my feet trembling with gladness as 
I heard the sturdy footsteps approach and with 
the word “John” on my lips I faced the door; 
but the name was never spoken, for there entered 
not John Travers but Mark Powell 


370 


CHAPTER XXII 

THE SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN 

F OR a moment I stood looking at Mark 
speechless with surprise and growing appre- 
hension ; then I found my tongue. 

“Where is Captain Travers ?” I demanded, 
giving the boy no greeting in my anxiety for 
John. “There is some mistake here. They 
have brought the wrong prisoner.” 

“Nay, Miss Beatrice,” Mark answered, “I am 
the one they hold as Captain Travers. Do you 
not know where he is ?” 

Still I did not understand. 

“Captain Travers is here,” I insisted; “he is 
a prisoner,” and just then Cornwallis came back 
into the room and I appealed to him. “Your 
Lordship, this is not Captain Travers but Mark 
Powell, a private in his regiment. There is some 
mistake.” 

Cornwallis with an exclamation started for the 
door, but Mark stopped him. 

371 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“Nay, your Lordship, there is no mistake. I 
am the prisoner you hold as Captain Travers, but 
as Miss Travers has told you I am only the pri- 
vate, Mark Powell. ,, 

“Then where is John?” I cried, for if he were 
not here I knew not where he could be, and the 
conviction was growing upon me that, after all, 
he must be dead. 

“Have you heard naught of him?” asked 
Mark, and ’twas plain that he was as anxious 
as I. 

“We have heard nothing since he disappeared 
from Salem,” I answered as calmly as I could. 

“But what has Bill Schmuck to say for him- 
self?” inquired Mark. 

“We have not seen him either,” I returned 
gloomily, for the mystery was growing deeper. 
“What do you know of him?” 

Mark looked from me to Lord Cornwallis hesi- 
tatingly, as if he wanted to speak but dared not 
before the British general. 

“Nay, tell your tale,” said his Lordship, “I 
shall not use it against you, whatever it may be.” 

“ ’T is not much of a story,” Mark began. “In 
the battle the captain was hit badly, but Bill and 
372 


SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN 

I took him off safe enough to a house near by. 
He was unconscious, you understand, all the 
while, but we had hope of him and did what we 
could. Yet we had scarce gotten him settled 
when the country folk brought news of a band 
of Tarleton’s stragglers who had come up search- 
ing the house for prisoners and would be on us 
in a minute or two. We knew something, Miss, 
of the way Tarleton treated his prisoners. 
T was short shrift, usually, for the officers, and 
so, to save the captain, Bill and I stripped off 
his uniform and I put it on. ’T was to save him, 
Miss, you see, for they were less likely to bother 
with a private.” 

“ 'T was a brave deed, very brave, Mark,” I 
cried, and Cornwallis stopped his walk and looked 
at my substitute, nodded his head up and down in 
agreement, though he spoke no word. 

“Nay, it was my duty to save the captain,” 
Mark went on. “He was of more worth to the 
cause and, besides, I owed you that and more. 
Well, it turned out as I hoped it would. The 
British came and took me for Captain Travers, 
for I told them that was my name and they had 
heard it before to their sorrow. The other two 
373 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


they thought were just privates. They took all 
three of us, but they counted not on being chased 
for twenty miles or more and when it became too 
hot for them there was talk of putting an end 
to us all, then and there. This, however, they 
dared not do, the band being in charge of a ser- 
geant only, but Mr. Travers seemed pretty far 
gone and they dumped him on the ground, mean- 
ing to leave him to die. Soon after Bill Schmuck 
had a fit, or pretended to have one, and again 
there was talk of shooting, but it scarce seemed 
worth while to waste the powder and he was left 
lying on the road, they being as well satisfied to 
have none but me to bother with, whom they 
supposed to be the officer.” 

“And was Bill about to die?” I broke in upon 
him. 

“Nay, Miss, ’t was but a trick of his, I ’m sure,” 
he answered, “though it looked bad enough, for 
he rolled his eyes in a terrible fashion and moaned 
most awfully. But you see there was little time 
to parley over the matter. I longed to escape, 
Miss, and could have slid my wrists through the 
cords that bound me, for I would give no parole 
not being what I seemed; but they kept an eye 
374 


SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN 


on me, and I dared not make the attempt then. 
Moreover, I had no wish to lead them back to 
Captain Travers. 

“After supper, however, I slipped my hands out 
of my bonds, for by this time we had come near 
to the main body of the British and the pursuit 
had stopped, yet I thought to win back to our 
own men. But I had ill luck. I was challenged 
as I went through their lines and followed on 
horseback. I can run fast, Miss, and escaped 
them for a while and lay that night in hiding in 
the woods; but on the morrow they sighted me 
again and, in the daylight, I could not throw them 
off. I knew that sooner, or later they would 
catch me, there being six or eight mounted men 
on my track, and I wanted to get word of Cap- 
tain Travers to Major McLane but could think 
of no way of doing it except to send the bit of 
broken chain I had found in his pocket. This 
I thought he would recognize as belonging to 
Captain Jack, and I just rushed into a hut and 
thrust the coin into the hands of a man there, 
praying him to take it to the Major. ’T was all 
I could do. If I had delayed longer and risked 
their capturing me there, ’t is more than likely 
375 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

they would have made a prisoner of the man too. 
So I tore out of the back door and into the woods, 
where they took me, though they had to put a 
bullet in my leg before they did it. 

“Good lad !” Cornwallis broke in, “but I wager 
they were not in the best of humor after the chase 
you gave them. ,, 

“You’re right,” Mark agreed. “They talked 
of putting an end to me then and there, but 
thought they would get more credit if they 
handed me over to Tarleton, while the end would 
be the same. And so it would have been, but for 
unexpected interference by an officer named 
Blundell. He came upon us and, though I sus- 
pected that he knew I was not Captain Jack, he 
said I was, and begged that I be not executed 
then but held a prisoner in secret. He came 
again while we were on the march and confirmed 
my suspicion by telling me he would secure my 
liberty if I gave him news of where the captain 
could be found; but that, of course, I refused. 
Since we ’ve been in Yorktown I ’ve seen him 
twice; but he has never asked me about the cap- 
tain, seeming more interested in just being sure 
I was there than anything else. That ’s the 

376 


SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN 

whole story, Miss, and I hope I Ve done what was 
right.” 

“Oh, you have! you have, Mark,” I replied, 
“and I ’m very grateful for all you have tried to 
do, but we are further than ever from John and 
I know not which way to turn, for now that he is 
not here, where, oh, where can he be?” 

Mark had no answer to my question and we sat 
for a moment in silence. 

“I am sorry, Miss Travers,” Lord Cornwallis 
broke in upon our meditation, “that your coming 
here has not brought you the relief you had ex- 
pected. It would have been a pleasure to me to 
have done you a service while I was yet able, 
but as that cannot be I will at least show my in- 
tention by letting you take this brave lad back 
to your lines at dawn under a flag of truce.” 

“Indeed, your Lordship, I thank you for that,” 
I cried, and Mark saluted. 

“Ah, my dear young lady,” he answered, “ ’t is 
naught, as to-morrow will show ; but I should like 
you to feel that, amid all the necessary cruelties 
of war, those of us who have to inflict such pain 
and hardship upon our enemies take no joy in 
it. It would please me greatly if you will believe 
377 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


that, were I still able to defy Washington, I would 
yet be glad to do as I am doing,” and he seated 
himself and took up a pen. 

“Your Lordship,” I made reply, “I know not 
quite what you mean but I believe you intend to 
be kind to us and I thank you for your gener- 
osity and courtesy. If I seem not to be properly 
glad ’ t is because of the bitter disappointment I 
suffer at not finding my cousin, though it will 
be a great pleasure to have Mark Powell back 
again.” 

“He did a very brave deed,” said Cornwallis; 
“as a private he ran little risk of his life, whereas 
to play the officer was courting death, for we 
deemed it a necessary part of our campaign to 
deprive our enemy of as many officers as we 
could come by. It seems a cruel proceeding, no 
doubt; however we thought it expedient and 
make no apologies on that score. 

“Let us think of pleasanter things. Here is 
a safe-conduct for you and this young man, who 
has shown a capacity for more responsibility than 
is expected of a private and, I doubt not will re- 
ceive recognition of that when he returns to your 
army. I have placed no restrictions upon his 

378 


Here is a safe-conduct for you and this young man 






SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN 

return, so he is quite free to go on fighting so 
long as he likes and will always have my respect 
as a brave and resourceful enemy.” 

With that he handed me the paper with a low 
bow. 

We thanked him as well as we were able and 
knowing that he would be glad to be alone we 
left him. 

It had been arranged that on the morrow, as 
soon as it was light, we should be taken to our 
lines under a flag of truce, but I began to think 
of the anxiety Mrs. Mummer would suffer on my 
account and proposed that we return as I had 
come, for with our safe-conduct no one would 
stop us. 

It was a sad journey, though I tried to express 
gratitude for all Mark had done, yet I could not 
be very gay and he, too, was bowed down with 
the conviction that John could not be in the land 
of the living. The hope that I had kept bright 
all this time was beginning to grow dim, and I 
sat in the boat, silent and heart-broken, as Mark 
rowed up the river to the beach I had left. 

I asked him about his plans to escape and ex- 
plained how the boat was taken, but he told me 
38i 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


that this was but an invention of Blundell's, as 
he had had no thought of making such an at- 
tempt. So it was plain that this officer, angered 
at not getting the map he hoped for, had told 
me the tale to make me suffer for, as he sup- 
posed, breaking my word with him. 

We plodded along over the two miles of lane 
that separated the river and the little house at 
Halfway and when at last we reached it I was 
so tired I could hardly lift one foot after the 
other. 

We saw lights burning, showing that there 
was little sleep within and it was a glad cry that 
greeted me as I entered, but the good house- 
keeper, seeing Mark when she expected Master 
John, was as bitterly disappointed as I had been 
and seemed to care little what my story was so 
long as I was back safely. 

Mark went off to report to Major McLane, who 
was on duty with his troop, and I to bed. I cried 
myself to sleep, worn out with fatigue and heart- 
broken with my disappointment. 

I slept late the next morning and it was near 
noon when I entered the little dining-room where 
I found Major McLane awaiting my coming. 

382 


SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN 

“I have your news from Mark Powell/’ he 
said. “You are a brave girl and he is a brave 
lad. I only wish your efforts had been more suc- 
cessful. I shall be glad to recommend Powell for 
promotion.” 

“ ’T was kind of Lord Cornwallis to set him 
free,” I said, not trusting myself to talk of Jack 
just then. 

“Not so remarkably kind,” answered the Major 
with a sniff. “Considering that Yorktown has 
surrendered and that the entire garrison will 
march out and lay down their arms this after- 
noon. He has but anticipated the lad’s liberty by 
some few hours.” 

“Oh, now I see why Cornwallis was so upset,” 
I exclaimed. “Nevertheless he would have done 
it anyway, I am sure, and he treated me most 
civilly.” 

“I thank him for that,” said the major. “I 
would always rather think kindly of my enemies 
than otherwise. Should you like to see the cere- 
monies of the surrender ?” he asked abruptly. 

“Yes, I think I would,” I answered rather in- 
differently, but he understood my feeling. 

“There is a little hill from which you could 

383 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


see it quite well,” he explained, “and if you and 
Peter will go there — ” 

“Cannot I have Mark?” I asked. “I was so 
unhappy last night that I could n’t think ; now 
there are some questions I would like to ask him 
if you will let him come.” 

“Of course you can have him,” cried the major 
heartily. “I shall detail him to look after you. 
’T is a duty, Bee, I should not object to myself 
were it forced upon me, and I doubt not Mark 
will be glad to get out of the ranks. But don’t 
be down-hearted, little woman,” he went on, try- 
ing to bring back my courage which was at its 
lowest ebb ; “we ’re no worse off than we were 
yesterday. Don’t you give up hope, who have 
kept us all in heart. We ’ll have Jack back yet.” 

It was kind of Allan McLane, but I knew only 
too well that he was saying this to cheer me and 
not at all because he had any faith in his en- 
couraging words; still I tried to smile a little to 
show that I appreciated his efforts. 

The news that Cornwallis had surrendered 
brought little elation to me at the time. My 
heart was too sore to feel glad about anything, 
but I had begun to get back my spirits a little and 

384 


SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN 


to ponder the events of the evening, and as I 
had told Major McLane there were one or two 
things that did not seem easily explainable. 

Mark came for me about three o’clock in the 
afternoon, dressed in a new uniform and looking 
like the fine brave fellow he was, and together we 
rode out to a small hill overlooking the road to 
Hampton where the ceremony of the surrender 
was to take place. 

On the way I spoke of the matters that had 
been puzzling me. 

‘‘Mark/’ I asked, “why should this man Blun- 
dell have saved you?” 

“Indeed, Miss Beatrice,” he answered, “I ’ve 
thought of that many a time but no good answer 
ever came to me. Of course it had something to 
do with Captain Jack, but just how I can’t make 
out.” 

“Did he ever talk to you ?” I questioned. 

“Not when he was alone,” Mark replied. “If 
perchance there was another officer with him he 
would ask me if I were ready to tell what I knew 
and when I said I had naught to tell, he would 
shrug his shoulders as much as to say, 'You see 
he won’t speak,’ and then go off. Once when he 

385 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


came alone he looked at me a long time and then 
muttered to himself, 'Can he know of it?’ then he 
shook his head and said, 'Impossible !’ but what 
he was talking about I have no notion.” 

"I think I know, Mark/’ I said. "Do you re- 
member when Master Bart and I went off to hunt 
pirate treasure?” 

"I’ll never forget that, Miss,” he answered; 
"it was the luckiest night of my life.” 

"And you know I was forced to climb the gar- 
den wall to escape old Schmuck, the magus.” 

"Yes, that was the next day while I was in the 
smoke-house,” he replied. 

"Well, Mark,” I went on, "this Captain Blun- 
dell wants a map — the same that Schmuck 
sought. He 's been looking for it ever since and 
last night he said he would tell me where Captain 
Jack was if I would give it up. I thought I had 
it and promised it to him, upon which he said 
that Mr. Travers was a prisoner in Yorktown, or 
at least he made me believe it by saying there 
was a prisoner by that name there, which was 
true, though he knew he was deceiving me.” 

"And did you give him the map, Miss?” Mark 
asked. 


386 


is 

SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN 

“I was mistaken. I did not have it,” I an- 
swered. “It is all very strange and I don’t un- 
derstand it. It may be that Blundell, thinking 
Captain Travers had knowledge of the map, kept 
you a prisoner so that he could do what he liked 
with Jack and have you executed, if necessary, 
to cover it up. The report would then be sent 
out that Captain Travers had been shot by the 
British as a necessary war measure, and that 
would clear Blundell of any responsibility in his 
death. Do you think that is possible?” 

“It might be, Miss,” the lad answered thought- 
fully, “but it would only be necessary if he 
wanted to murder Captain Jack — and then 
there ’s Bill Schmuck to account for — and I don’t 
know how.” 

“But, Mark,” I said, “one thing is certain. 
Blundell knows more about what has happened 
to Mr. Travers than any of us. That I ’m sure 
of.” 

“Then where is this Blundell?” he asked ea- 
gerly. 

“I ’ve let him slip through my fingers,” I re- 
plied bitterly. “He left Yorktown last night, 
and we can count upon his being as far away as 

387 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

possible by now. I ’ve no hope that he has been 
captured.” 

“I wish I had been there instead of you, Miss,” 
said Mark, “he would n’t have gotten off without 
telling. But it would take an army to find 
him now, — yet I think you ’re right, Miss, in be- 
lieving that he knows something and — and, 
but I don’t know what to think, and that ’s a 
fact.” 

No more did I, so we sat our horses a while in 
silence, looking out at the soldiers assembling for 
the reception of Cornwallis’s army. From the 
hill upon which we were we could see all that 
was going forward as if it were in some great am- 
phitheater. Our army was drawn up in a line 
at the right of the road with his Excellency, Gen- 
eral Washington, at the head of it. Opposite, 
on the left, were the French with the Comte de 
Rochambeau at their head, very brave in white 
uniforms with colored facings, and gay with their 
white silk flags embroidered with gold lilies. 
Again I could not help contrasting them with 
our own men who were dressed in many different 
sorts of uniforms which had but one thing in 
common and that was their shabbiness. Mark, 
388 


SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN 


too, noted the difference, for he remarked half to 
himself : 

“ ’T is not the uniforms that do the fighting.” 

“But the French fight well too, Mark,” I said. 

“I doubt not that, Miss,” he answered, “and 
General Lafayette is a fine gentleman and a good 
leader, — but I have missed a lot of fighting and 
know little of our allies.” 

Presently we heard the band of the British 
army leading the forces out of Yorktown to the 
surrender, and as they came nearer, Mark 
laughed aloud. 

“Know you the tune, Miss Beatrice ?” he asked 
with a chuckle. 

“Nay, what is it?” 

“ ’T is called 'The World Turned Upside- 
down’ ;” he laughed. “I Ve heard them play it 
many a time when I was a prisoner, but it never 
had such a meaning for them before. If you 
could know the way they laugh at us for soldiers, 
you ’d see why they feel as if the world had 
turned upside down for them. I think they can- 
not understand it at all.” 

The British troops, all dressed in bright new 
uniforms, paraded slowly between the columns 

389 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

of the allied armies and I looked to see Lord 
Cornwallis give his sword to General Washing- 
ton, which was the customary way of doing. But 
after the British halted, an officer came forward 
to his Excellency who was not Cornwallis, and I 
suddenly remembered the words I had overheard 
the night before while I stood outside his Lord- 
ship’s door. “But I ’ll never hand my sword to 
a rebel. Never! Never!” 

We watched the gentleman approach, but he 
was met by one of his Excellency’s aides and, after 
a moment’s talk, while the English soldiers 
grounded their arms, General Lincoln rode for- 
ward and the sword was handed to him by the 
British officer (who, I later learned, was General 
O’Hara), for as their commander would not sur- 
render in person it was not fitting that ours should 
take the sword. 

After that, Washington and his generals 
moved back and in a field to one side a circle of 
French hussars was formed within which the 
British army, by regiments, marched and depos- 
ited their arms in a heap, returning to their for- 
mer positions with empty hands. 

It was a wonderful sight and a happy one for 
390 


SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN 

all good patriots but I could not help feeling a 
little sympathy for the soldiers who were thus be- 
ing humiliated. 

“ 'T is a bitter pill for the British/' Mark mur- 
mured, “and I 'm glad of it." And when I 
thought of some of the stories I had heard of 
what the soldiers had done to peaceful men and 
women in the South, I confess I recovered from 
my regrets on their account. 

When the rank and file had deposited their 
arms, Washington and his party moved forward 
again and the junior officers of the British army 
prepared to deliver their flags. This was the 
most impressive part of the whole ceremony. 
The British officers presented their flags to our 
officer of the day who in turn handed them to a 
sergeant beside him. This they did twenty- 
eight times, Mark counted, though I made the: 
number nine and twenty. Our officer who per- 
formed this duty looked like a mere stripling, 
not older than Bart, and I later remembered to 
ask Major McLane about him. He was Ensign 
Wilson, whom Colonel Hamilton had made offi- 
cer of the day because he was the youngest man 
in the army to hold a commission. 

391 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


The last of the ceremony was quaint and sig- 
nificant. The British soldiers, after the flags had 
been delivered, marched back to their tents and 
in a moment detachments from the French and 
our own army, surrounded them to show there 
was no escape. This ended the ceremony and 
there was general movement to disperse. 

Mark and I sat still, looking down at the sol- 
diers marching off to their quarters and the coun- 
try people who loitered along, seemingly not at 
all anxious to go to their homes. 

“What will the British do now, Mark?’* I 
asked. 

“Oh, they ’ll fight on, I suppose,” he answered. 
“There ’ll be many to say that this will end the 
war, but there were just as many who said the 
same thing after Philadelphia was evacuated. 
Aye, and long before that when Howe left Bos- 
ton.” 

“There is Clinton still in New York,” I said. 

“And there he ’ll stay till reinforcements ar- 
rive. He wants no meeting with our General 
unless he has three or four to one — and then he 
is n’t anxious.” 

“Well, who can tell what may happen?” I re- 
392 


SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN 

marked idly. “I heard some things in England 
when I was there that made me think we had 
friends on the other side of the sea. There was 
one in particular, a Mr. Charles Fox, who was in 
Parliament and a great defender of the Colonies, 
so perhaps the King may not get his own way so 
easily.” 

“We should have a king of our own,” said 
Mark with emphasis, “and we would have a good 
one too in his Excellency. Ah, Miss Beatrice,” 
he exclaimed, “if the General did but say the 
word, Congress in Philadelphia might go on play- 
ing their politics while the soldiers starved and 
froze, but the army would settle the matter in a 
trice ! He ’d be King of America to-morrow if 
he but winked in that direction.” 

“He would make a fine king, would he not?” 
I said with enthusiasm. 

“Aye,” agreed Mark, “and why not? But 
he ’ll never have it, Miss Beatrice ; for, from all 
I can discover, he has the same queer notions of 
government as those fellows in Philadelphia, who 
do naught but talk. Of course I would want 
none other than Washington for king and who 
would come after him — ” 

393 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


But I was not listening, for as my eyes strayed 
over the departing throng of spectators of that 
historic ceremony my glance caught the figure 
of a man peering here and there as if he were 
looking for some one. 

“Mark!” I cried, pointing. “Look! Do you 
recognize who that is?” 

He followed the direction of my finger until he, 
too, caught sight of the tall, gangling man at 
whom I pointed. 

“ ’T is Schmuck, the magus !” he cried. 
“Come, Miss Bee, I doubt not he knows some- 
thing of this Blundell, if they are both after the 
same map,” and urging our horses we galloped 
down the slope, my excitement growing as I real- 
ized that, after all, here was one who might give 
me news of him I sought. The sight of the magus 
and Blundell talking together under the street 
lamp in Philadelphia three years before came viv- 
idly to mind. 

“Hurry, Mark, hurry!” I cried, and we in- 
creased our speed. 


394 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE MAGUS LAUGHS 

O LD SCHMUCK, the magus, was some dis- 
tance off when we first sighted him, but 
neither of us was in doubt for a moment who it 
was we saw. No one else could have the same 
thin figure and gangling legs. As we approached 
we saw him elbowing his way here and there, and 
always nearing the quarters where the paroled 
English officers were stationed. 

Why he was there, of course, we knew not, but 
it was probable that he was on some business con- 
nected with Blundell and his scheme. 

We thundered down the road but were forced 
to halt our pace when we came into the crowd 
for fear of hurting some one and at length, when 
the press became too thick, Mark, giving me the 
reins of his animal, leaped to the ground. 

“Stay here, Miss Beatrice,” he said, “I 'll bring 
the man to you,” and he shouldered his way to- 
ward Schmuck. 


395 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


I watched anxiously and saw the magus turn 
a startled glance as Mark put a hand on his shoul- 
der. There was a moment’s talk between them, 
and it seemed as if Schmuck protested, but the 
evident strength and determination of my sub- 
stitute settled the matter, and the two came to- 
ward me. 

“This is no way to treat a peaceable citizen,” 
he complained in a loud voice as he stopped be- 
fore my horse. “I ’m no soldier to be harried 
this way and that. What is it you want with 
me?” 

“I ’ll tell you one thing,” Mark broke in angrily, 
“if you don’t keep a civil tongue in your head 
you ’ll get such a beating as will give you cause to 
remember this day for many a year. Answer 
Miss Travers with truth and a decent politeness 
or ’t will be the worse for you.” 

“Do you know aught of Captain Travers?” 

At my first question Schmuck threw up his 
head defiantly. 

“How should I know aught of him?” he de- 
manded. 

“Because it is in my mind,” I told him, “that a 
certain British captain named Blundell has 

396 


THE MAGUS LAUGHS 


knowledge of my cousin and, unless I ’m much 
mistaken, you know something of Blundell.” 

He looked up at me with a sneering smile on 
his lips that angered Mark again. 

“Have a care, Schmuck,” he cried, “or you 'll 
have the flat of my sword across your shoulders.” 

“And I shall tell his Excellency that one of his 
brutal soldiers has maltreated a citizen,” retorted 
Schmuck, who, whatever his faults might be, 
seemed no coward now. 

“Schmuck,” I said, taking another turn in my 
questions, “I know that this Blundell is after the 
same map you wanted when you tried to catch me 
in the garden of Denewood three years ago !” 

“Like as not,” he returned lightly. “No doubt 
it was a valuable map, but I Ve forgotten the cir- 
cumstances.” 

“That is not true,” I answered. “Only last 
night Blundell told me you and he were searching 
for it.” 

At my words Schmuck's face underwent a 
change. 

“Where did you see Captain Blundell last 
night ?” he demanded, in a rough tone which was 
plainly due to his surprise. 

397 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

“Outside of Yorktown,” I replied. “He knew 
Cornwallis would surrender and cared not to be 
taken prisoner.” 

“Is that the truth?” inquired the magus, but 
he saw by my face that it was, and without wait- 
ing for a reply, he raised his long arms and shook 
his fists in the air, the picture of rage. 

“Tricked!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. 
“Tricked! and to think that after all these years 
I should live to be cheated in this fashion. 
T ricked ! T ricked !” 

The man was raging in his anger and so loud 
did he shout that the people near us began to take 
notice and many started to move over towards 
where we stood. 

“Stow your noise, Schmuck,” commanded 
Mark; and then to me, “It will be best, Miss, to 
take him to your house and let him tell his tale 
there.” 

“I shall tell no tale,” he cried, but at this mo- 
ment I saw the huge figure of Major McLane 
riding alone and, with a word to Mark to guard 
the magus, I cantered off to intercept him. 

Allan McLane needed no long explanation. 
At the news that I thought we might learn some- 

398 


THE MAGUS LAUGHS 

thing of John from Schmuck he was prompt to 
act and we galloped together to where Mark still 
held his prisoner. 

“Now, fellow !” cried the Major in a big voice, 
“out with your tale!” and though he made no 
threats, Schmuck needed but a glance to know 
that here was one who would tolerate no lying. 
For a moment or two he seemed to hesitate as if 
making up his mind what he should do. Then 
coming to a decision he spoke. 

“I will tell you what I know,” he said, and 
added with a touch of spirit, “I Ve been tricked, 
otherwise you would get naught out of me.” 

“Is Captain Travers alive?” I asked, for the 
answer to that question was the most important 
information the magus could give me. 

“He was, two days gone,” was the answer. 

“And where is he?” demanded Major McLane. 

“That I do not know,” answered Schmuck, 
“ but ’t is something of a story and — ” he looked 
about him where people were crowding close out 
of curiosity, “ ’t is somewhat public here.” 

We caught his meaning and the major was 
quick to act. 

“Powell, take the man up on your horse. We 

399 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

will follow.” In this order we rode back to the 
cottage where we lodged. 

We all went into the main room and after 
lighting candles, for it had begun to grow dark, 
Major McLane placed Mark at the door, and 
giving the magus a chair, we seated ourselves 
opposite him. 

“Now tell us what you know of Captain 
Travers,” McLane began, “and be careful that 
your story is true, for were you, or forty like you, 
between him and me I would cut you to pieces 
but I would come to him.” 

“Do I understand that I shall be pardoned of 
all guilt in the matter if I tell?” replied the 
magus, having evidently taken thought of this 
on his way to the house. 

But he reckoned not on Allan McLane, who 
was little like to allow him to set terms. 

“Man! Man!” shouted the major in his 
powerful voice. “Do you want your neck 
wrung like a sparrow’s? Here, for nigh six 
months, have I searched for news of my friend, 
John Travers, and now that you have come with 
word of him, think you I have a mind for bar- 
gaining. Out with your tale for I am not a 
400 


THE MAGUS LAUGHS 


patient man and ’t is all I can do to keep my 
hands off a rogue when I am nigh one.” 

“Two days ago Captain Travers was alive and 
well, in a house in the pine woods some twenty 
miles from here,” answered the magus sullenly, 
realizing it was best to deal openly with the major. 

“A prisoner?” I cried. 

“Aye,” answered the magus, “a prisoner, — 
but in no danger of his life.” 

“And where is he now? That is what con- 
cerns me most,” cried Allan. 

“That I know not,” answered the magus. 

“Do not lie to me,” exclaimed the major, and 
he reached forward and grasped Schmuck by 
the shoulder and would have shaken him like a 
rat had not the man cried out : 

“Nay, I am telling the truth! ’T was Blun- 
dell's plan from the beginning, though I warned 
him it would not serve. Listen, and I will tell 
you the plain tale of it.” 

“Go on, but waste no words in your own de- 
fense,” said Allan. 

“You understand there is a map of a treasure 
that Blundell had knowledge of,” Schmuck 
began, and we nodded. “Well, I knew that it 
401 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


came into possession of this young lady and I 
tried to obtain it. We searched high and low 
but unsuccessfully. After two years Blundell 
inherited some money and went back to England 
and I thought to see no more of him, though I 
still looked for the map. A year ago he returned 
and rejoined the British army. He sent me 
word that he now had definite news of the map 
and wanted me to help him find it. I was will- 
ing and in the course of time I met him. He 
told me then he knew the young miss did not 
have it and that, failing her, it must either be in 
the possession of her cousin, John Travers, or in 
some place he would know of. We had never 
been certain who held the map and though we 
had hunted again and again we found it not. We 
concluded, therefore, that Captain Travers had 
put it in a place of safety until the war should 
end, after which he would go and lift the treas- 
ure. 

“But how did you get hold of him?” asked 
Allan McLane, breaking in upon the magus. 

“There was some luck in that,” was the an- 
swer, “but I was close on his track, having fol- 
lowed him about until the opportunity should 
402 


THE MAGUS LAUGHS 


serve. Though, understand there was no harm 
meant to him if he but gave up the map.” 

“Indeed!” cried Allan grimly. “If he gave 
up the map he was not to be harmed. A fine 
pair, you and your Blundell ! But, go on.” 

“After the battle of the Cowpens I lost track 
of the captain for a while,” Schmuck took up 
his tale again without trying to propitiate us. 
“And though I looked high and low, traveling 
about the country and suffering much, no word 
of him did I get. But some two or three months 
later a message was sent to me from Blundell, 
saying that he had captured the captain and 
held him prisoner at a house in Virginia. Mr. 
Travers and my son had come into the British 
camp thinking they were making their way back 
to the American army, having been decoyed by 
letters sent out by the British to deceive strag- 
glers or wounded men who had recovered from 
their hurts.” 

“ J T is a nice business !” McLane interrupted, 
with a growl like a bear. 

“Since then,” the magus continued, “Captain 
Travers and my son, a stupid dolt, have been 
prisoners, though the captain might have had his 
403 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


liberty at any minute had he given us word of 
the whereabouts of the map.” 

“And have you been in Virginia all this time?” 
I asked. 

“We have moved from place to place in order 
to be near to Captain Blundell who would visit 
us upon occasion and try to get the information 
he sought from Captain Travers.” 

“And never got it, I warrant,” declared Mc- 
Lane. 

“Nay, we never did,” answered the magus. 
“He has always denied that he knew aught of 
it, though that, of course, we did not believe.” 

“Nevertheless, it was true,” I broke in. “He 
knows naught of it except that you demanded it 
when I was on the garden wall at Dene wood.” 

“But how did you hold Captain Travers?” 
asked Allan; “unless he is so crippled that he 
cannot walk, or is chained to a tree, he would 
make short work of you.” 

“There are four stout fellows guarding the 
captain,” said the magus. “I was but a substi- 
tute for Blundell while he was away.” 

“And where is Captain Travers now?” asked 
Allan. 


404 


THE MAGUS LAUGHS 


“That I do not know,” answered the magus. 

“Take care,” cried Allan, half rising, “do not 
juggle with the truth to me.” 

“Nay, it is the whole truth I tell you,” the 
magus went on. “For some time I have sus- 
pected that Blundell would not share the treasure 
with me as he promised, but I had naught to go 
upon except that of late he has been fair des- 
perate about the business and ready to go to any 
lengths to get the map out of Captain Travers. 
He talked of starving him into telling, and — and 
worse; but that I told him plainly I would not 
countenance.” 

“ *T will be remembered in your favor,” 
growled the major, “but oh, wait, till I lay my 
hands on Blundell!” 

“We had several angry discussions on that 
matter,” said the magus, “yet I never thought he 
would actually take the measures he suggested. 
However, two days ago we were camped at a 
lonely spot some twenty miles from here, when 
word came to me from Blundell, to the effect 
that he wished to see me at a place appointed. 
I started, leaving the four fellows to guard our 
prisoner ; I was ready enough, for such meetings 
405 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


had been arranged before; but, after riding half 
a day and cogitating the matter, I became sus- 
picious; for I realized that if Blundell should 
want to put into practice upon Captain Travers 
what he had threatened, he would not wish me 
for a witness ; and moreover, once he had knowl- 
edge of the map he would plan to cheat me of my 
share. At first I scoffed at the notion ; but, as I 
rode on, it grew more clear to me how easily he 
might do this; and/ on a sudden impulse, I turned 
my horse and rode back as fast as it would carry 
me. I found that my suspicions were but too 
well founded. The place had been deserted. 
No one was there and I know not whither they 
have gone. Having no other plan I hurried 
back here, hoping to find Blundell, but I have 
seen no trace of him. From what the young 
miss tells me, he has left Yorktown and no doubt 
is even now with Captain Travers. He has 
tricked me !” the magus ended in a sort of scream. 
“He will get the map and I will be cheated of 
my rights.” 

“Nay, he will not get the map!” I exclaimed. 
“I have that, — or rather — ” I corrected myself 
as I remembered, “I had it.” 

406 


THE MAGUS LAUGHS 

“You?” said the magus. “Have you always 
had it?” 

“Aye, but it is a queer thing that I do not 
rightly understand,” I explained. “I had a part 
of it, drawn upon a piece of silver paper; but, 
when I came to look upon it again, there was no 
map there.” 

The magus gazed at me with his brow wrin- 
kled, but Allan McLane seemed skeptical. 

“ *T is hardly reasonable, as you tell it,” he 
said. “Maps do not come and go like that.” 

“Nevertheless this one did,” I answered, and 
glancing at the table I saw my little book of 
maxims lying there under a news sheet, where 
Peter had left it when he had brought it back the 
night before. Taking up the book, I drew forth 
the two pieces of silvered paper, scrutinizing 
them closely, for I still could not believe that the 
map I had seen had disappeared. The white 
sides were blank, and as the edges of the two 
portions fitted perfectly there was no chance that 
another scrap could have been substituted. 

“The map was on this paper a year ago,” I 
said with all the positiveness I could muster, and 
handed it to Major McLane. 

407 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“There ’s naught here now/’ he said, after 
looking at it. “You must have dreamed it, Bee.” 

“Nay,” I answered, “I ’ll tell you how it hap- 
pened. After Schmuck had demanded the map, 
declaring I had it — ” 

“And it was in that package,” the magus cut 
in ; “we have absolute information that ’t was 
wrapped about the English bank notes. ’T was 
in Varnum’s possession and the package was 
stolen by some Hessians. There ’s no doubt of 
that, and I myself saw you with it in your hands.” 

“That ’s all true,” I replied. “We found the 
bank-notes just as you say and — ” 

“What was there around them?” demanded 
Schmuck. 

“This piece of silvered paper,” I answered, 
“but there was no drawing upon it, nor upon the 
paper outside, nor on the parchment in which the 
bills were wrapped to keep out the water. At 
least there was nothing at the time, for John and 
Bart and I searched diligently. Later, however, 
on this piece of silvered paper I found a drawing 
that was without doubt a chart but when I came 
to look again for it ’t was gone. It sounds like a 
dream, but it is the truth.” 

408 


THE MAGUS LAUGHS 

Major McLane took the paper in his hands and 
scanned it carefully, only to shake his head, while 
the magus wrinkled his forehead, as perplexed 
as any of us. Incredible as my story was, neither 
doubted that I was telling the exact truth and 
both were searching for some explanation of it. 
At last the magus’s brow cleared. 

“How came the paper to be torn?” he asked 
eagerly. 

“My cousin wanted a piece to use with her 
curling irons,” I explained, “and finding naught 
else, she tore this sheet and used a portion of it.” 

“And was the iron hot?” cried the magus. 

“To be sure,” I answered. 

“Then I have the truth of it!” he cried, jump- 
ing to his feet in wild excitement. “The map is 
there ! There !” and he pointed a bony finger at 
the silvered paper. “Fool that I was not to guess 
it! Fool! Fool! And Varnum knew all the 
time, for he said to bring everything about the 
package, but took good care not to tell the secret 
of it. He would have robbed us all, an he had 
come by this silvered paper again. ’T was clev- 
erly done and we have been fools.” 

“Now what is it all about?” demanded Mc- 
409 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

Lane. “No doubt you are a fool, but I see no 
map.” 

“Give it to me,” cried the magus, and taking 
the two pieces in his hands he bent over the table 
holding them close beside the flame of the can- 
dle. Allan McLane and I had gotten to our feet 
and were gazing over his shoulder at the two 
papers and as we looked there appeared, faint 
at first and then more and more distinct, the out- 
lines of a map that seemed to grow upon the 
blank surface. Gradually these lines showed 
stronger and stronger until, when the magus laid 
them on the table, fitting the torn edges together, 
there was a perfect map. 

“ ’T is magic !” I cried. 

“ ’T is sympathetic ink,” answered the magus, 
“and needs but heat to bring it out for a time, 
after which it disappears again but — but — oh!” 
he cried, and then staggering back from the table 
he began to laugh in a high-pitched, shrill voice 
that shook me with terror. 

“Stop it !” cried McLane. “Stop it !” 

But the magus reeled about the room like a 
man distraught and gave forth his horrid laughs 
until my nerves were wracked. 

410 


rhe map is there ! There! 






THE MAGUS LAUGHS 



Allan McLane strode over to him, a little up- 
set too, I think, for the magus looked and acted 
like one who had suddenly lost his mind. He 
grasped him by the shoulder and with one move- 
ment twisted him about and held him at arm's 
length in front of him. 

“Stop that infernal laughing!" he cried, “or 
I 'll choke it off for good." 

The magus made an effort but seemed past 
fear. 

“Fools! Fools! All fools!" he cried out 
413 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

again, and McLane dragged him to his chair and 
thrust him into it, determined to solve the 
riddle. 

“Now what is the meaning of this?” he asked. 

“Don’t you see?” the magus answered, trying 
to control himself, and laying a hand on the map 
beside him. “Know you not that for three long 
years, sleeping and waking, I have dreamed of 
finding this map ? That I ’ve thought of nothing 
but the treasure I should have when the map 
came into my possession? That all my strength 
of mind and body has gone into getting it ? Well, 
here it is! I have come upon it at last. And 
what do I find? Ha! Ha! Fools! Fools!” 
He was off again but McLane brought him 
quickly to his senses. 

“Well, and what did you find?” he demanded, 
shaking Schmuck. 

“That the treasure has already been lifted,” 
shouted the magus, giving the table a thunder- 
ing bang with his fist. “I am too late. The 
treasure has been lifted long since. Hast never 
heard of the pirate, Billy Bluebones? and the 
Englishman who was wrecked on the coast of 
Virginia and stumbled on his hoard? Well, look 
414 


THE MAGUS LAUGHS 

at the map. Look at it!” his voice rose to a 
shrill scream as he ended. 

McLane and I moved to the table and there, 
sure enough were the words : 

“Writ by Gentleman Jack for Billie Blue- 
bones.” 

There could be no doubt about it. I had heard 
of this treasure being lifted while I was in Eng- 
land and here was the map, discovered too late to 
be any service. 

“ T is plain enough,” said Allan McLane, “but 
Blundell will—” 

At that the magus suddenly remembered his 
associate. 

“And Blundell would have cheated me of it,” 
he cried. “Ah, it will do my eyes good when I 
see him read it. I ’m not the only dupe. Come, 
let us to him and give him the map ! Let us make 
him pay for it ! He ’ll pay well, too, trust me, 
and — then — ha ! ha !” 

But this brought me to my senses. What 
cared I for treasure and maps? I wanted John 
and we seemed as far as ever from him. 

“And where can we find Blundell?” demanded 
Allan McLane. 


415 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


“I know not,” was the answer. “As I told 
you, they have gone and left no trace.” 

“You can take us to the house you occupied, 
however,” said Allan. 

“Aye, willingly,” answered Schmuck. “But I 
fear it will do little good. Blundell will waste 
no time now. He is at the end of his tether and, 
unless we find him soon, 9 1 will be too late.” 

“He would not dare to kill him!” cried Major 
McLane. 

The magus shrugged. “He ’s desperate,” he 
answered. 

“Powell,” ordered the major, and Mark sa- 
luted. “Go to the camp and get a dozen mounted 
troopers and an extra horse for this man 
Schmuck. I shall expect you all in ten minutes.” 

Mark was out of the door before the sound of 
his voice had died. 

“What are you going to do ?” I demanded. 

“I shall take this man to the place and scour 
the country; I know not what else can be done,” 
he answered, as he tightened his sword-belt and 
prepared for the ride before him. 

“I ’m going too,” I said, and started out of the 
room to tell Peter to saddle my horse. 

416 


THE MAGUS LAUGHS 


“Nonsense!” cried McLane, but I didn’t re- 
ply, for as the words were on my lips there burst 
in through the outer door a tall, thin man whom, 
though I had not seen him for three years, I rec- 
ognized at once. 

It was Bill Schmuck! 


417 


CHAPTER XXIV 
hurry! hurry! hurry! 

I GAZED at the son of the magus for a mo- 
ment scarce comprehending what his sudden 
appearance signified, so surprised was I at his 
entrance. Then, too, he was covered with mud 
and dust from head to foot and he staggered with 
fatigue. 

He returned my look with bulging, weary eyes 
but came to his senses quicker than I. 

“Oh, Miss Beatrice,” he cried in a hoarse voice, 
“where is Major McLane?” 

“He ’s here, Bill,” I answered, but the major 
was at the door in a moment and ’t was well he 
was, for young Schmuck with a cry of pleasure 
at sight of him, reeled and would have fallen, had 
not McLane caught him and held him up. 

“What is it?” asked the major. 

“Captain Jack,” murmured Bill. “He ’s held 
captive, and Blundell has given him twenty-four 
418 


HURRY! HURRY! HURRY! 


hours. Then he *11 shoot him. Hurry, oh, 
please, hurry !” 

“Can you take us to the place ?” asked the 
major. 

“Yes, yes,” answered Bill quickly, “only hurry! 
It has taken me so long to get here and it ’s nigh 
fifteen miles away. Oh, hurry, hurry!” 

As I flew to seek Peter I heard McLane shout- 
ing to Mrs. Mummer. 

“Get something for this boy,” he said. “Fill 
him up as well as you can in three minutes. He ’s 
had naught to eat all day.” 

By that time I had found Peter and seen to it 
that he was saddling my horse, for I meant to 
go. I expected opposition from Major McLane 
but I was equally sure that even his Excellency 
could not have stopped my going to John that 
night, now that I had positive news of him. 

Back in the little room where I had left them, 
I found Bill, busy with some food Mrs. Mum- 
mer had brought and the major, ready for his 
ride, regarding the older Schmuck meditatively. 

As I entered the room he pointed to the door. 

“Get out of my sight,” he roared, “and if I 
ever see you again it will be the worse for you! 

419 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

Don’t stop to talk. You ’ve earned some consid- 
eration and that ’s why I tell you to go instead 
of turning you over to the guard. Right about ! 
March! We ’ve no time to waste on rascals like 
you,” and the magus disappeared as fast as his 
long legs could carry him, glad enough to be let 
off. 

Major McLane turned and looked at me and 
knew on the instant that it was my intention to 
accompany him. 

“I see you intend to go with us,” he said shortly, 
for when there was business in hand he wasted 
no time on polite speeches. 

“I must!” I answered. “Have I not earned 
the right?” 

“My child,” he replied, “this is n’t a question 
of right or of anything but of getting to John, 
and that I intend to do with all possible despatch. 
You know what that means. I go with Bill 
Schmuck, and naught shall stop my going just 
as fast as our horses will carry us. I shall have 
no time to stay for girls, who are out of place on 
such adventures, but I will see that Powell looks 
after you whatever happens, so that I need not 
have you on my mind.” 


420 


HURRY! HURRY! HURRY! 

‘That is the way I would have it,” I answered, 
“for although I mean to go, I would not step a 
foot out of the house if I thought it would delay 
you.” 

“Very well,” answered the major in his bru- 
squest manner, “I see you are set upon it and 
would put my orders to naught Well, you are a 
strong-minded maid and will have your way in 
spite of everything and — and, were I in your 
place, I ’d doubtless do the same !” he ended, with 
a grunt as he pulled on his gauntlets and settled 
his accoutrements. 

At that moment the sound of galloping horses 
told us that the troopers had come and the major 
spoke to Bill, still busy with the food. 

“Hurry,” he cried, “take the chicken-leg and 
eat it on the way,” and all three of us moved out 
of the room into the night. 

Poor Mrs. Mummer stood with her hands to- 
gether and her mouth agape. Things were mov- 
ing too swiftly for her and she knew but vaguely 
what was afoot, but she guessed of course, and 
stood ready to help and not to hinder. 

“We go for Master John,” I cried back to her, 
and though she returned no answer I knew well 
421 


BEATRICE OF DENEW*OOD 

enough there was a prayer on her lips for our 
success. 

Peter had not yet appeared but one shout of, 
“Peter, you black rascal. Come on!” from the 
major brought him running. 

I was up even before the major was in the 
saddle and in a moment we were off. 

At first the road was plain enough, there being 
but one good way out of that peninsula on which 
Yorktown stands, and so I had Bill Schmuck be- 
side me for a while. 

“Tell me what it all means?” I begged him as 
we tore along. “I know everything up to the 
time you were moved from the place your father 
saw you last.” 

“Did he tell you?” he asked, and I answered, 
“Yes.” 

“And the major let him go!” cried Bill in as- 
tonishment. 

“ ’T was the other, Blundell, was the worst,” I 
suggested. 

“Aye, that’s right, too, Miss,” agreed Bill, 
“for father would not harm Captain Jack. Nor 
would he have acted as he has had not this mag- 
got of treasure-hunting got into his brain. Oh, 
422 


HURRY! HURRY! HURRY! 

if we but reach there in time,” and he spurred his 
horse. 

“But what happened, Bill?” I asked. “Did 
Blundell come ?” 

“Aye, he 9 s there now. Those four villains of 
his moved us off some five or six miles to a small, 
deserted house and early this morning Blundell 
appeared. He put me into a loft upstairs, think- 
ing he had me safe, and I hope he thinks so still. 
Then he sent his men to a little hut about a hun- 
dred yards away.” 

“And was he alone with Mr. Travers?” I asked 
in surprise. 

“Aye, after the five of them had tied Captain 
Jack to a chair,” answered Bill bitterly. “He ’d 
never trust himself alone with my master on 
equal terms, be sure of that! Well, Miss, I lay 
as still as a mouse, upstairs, but the floor was 
rotten and I could see and hear all that went on 
below. ’T is the map he wants. ’T is the map 
he ’s asked for month after month — and what can 
the captain tell him? He knows naught of a 
map, but Blundell will not believe him, nor would 
my father. They are fair certain he has it, and 
so Blundell stood there with the captain tied in a 
423 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


chair and taking a pistol laid it on the table be- 
tween them. T give you till daylight to-morrow/ 
he says; that was all; but the man is desperate, 
and getting rid of my father who opposed him 
before, showed me he meant to do something; 
for as I said, he is fair desperate !” 

Bill stopped a moment as our horses drew 
apart, then went on as we came together again. 

“ ’T was then I looked for a way to get out, 
Miss, and found a little trap leading to the roof. 
I climbed up and, sliding to the edge, managed 
to grasp the overhanging branch of a tree. That 
made it easy to get down without making a noise, 
which was what I feared most. When I reached 
the ground I was in two minds what to do. I 
wanted to go for Blundell, you may believe that, 
Miss, for though he was armed and I had naught 
but my two naked hands, I should have liked to be 
at him; but I dared not do it. If he made an 
end of me, who would bring the news of Cap- 
tain Jack? Blundell had an extra pistol and his 
sword and — well, Miss, it was n't my life I was 
thinking of, so I started to find news of our sol- 
diers, not daring to trust any of the farmer people 
who are on the side which seems to have the most 
424 


HURRY! HURRY! HURRY! 

men, for any of them with the courage of a mouse 
is in our army already. But I got news that 
around Yorktown would be the likely place to 
get help and so I ran on till I came to you.” 

“ ’T was fine of you, Bill !” I cried, “but I see 
no reason for such anxiety. Blundell said to- 
morrow morning and we ’ll be there long before 
that.” 

“Aye, Miss, that ’s true enough if he don’t 
miss me,” Bill explained, a thing I might have 
thought of myself. “If he finds me gone, he ’ll 
know well enough that I will try to bring help 
and he will settle the matter sooner. That ’s 
what ’s worrying me, and the major can’t go any 
too fast to please me.” 

As if to answer his words there came a com- 
mand from the head of our little company. 

“Schmuck, come forward here,” and Bill left 
me to lead the way and give Allan further infor- 
mation as to the lay of the land. 

“Powell, drop back to Miss Travers,” ! Heard 
the next order given, and then in short, sharp 
sentences, “Men, we begin to ride now. .We ’re 
going to seek Captain Travers who is held pris- 
oner. And we have n’t any time to waste. 
425 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


Don’t spare your animals. Forward, at the 
double !” 

I heard a murmur of surprise and a muttered 
sentence or two among the troopers showing that 
every one of them would be there at the end of 
the ride if his horse stood up. There was a word 
to their horses and at the command, “Column 
right!” from the major, we all plunged into a 
lane, shaded by overhanging trees and black as 
night. 

We had been going at a good pace before, or 
so I thought, but this was my first experience 
with McLane’s Light Horse. I saw no faces, 
saw nothing in fact but an occasional patch of 
sky showing light through the trees. Before me 
and behind me I heard the plop, plop, of hoofs, 
the jangling of arms as they swung to the move- 
ment of the horses, their panting breathing and 
occasionally the muttered word of encourage- 
ment of a rider speaking to his animal. 

My horse was as good a one as there was in 
the company. Mummer had sent us off with 
two of the best in Denewood. I had no fear of 
its giving out, in fact I had no fear of anything 
but that we would not arrive in time to save Jack. 

426 


HURRY! HURRY! HURRY! 


The rush of wind across my face, the hurry 
and bustle of it all and perhaps, more than any- 
thing else, the consciousness that about me were 
men who would stop at nothing; who, like the 
one leading us, spoke little and dared everything ; 
all these things served to stimulate me, and in 
spite of my anxiety, there was a certain elation 
about this swift and reckless ride that touched 
something within me and gave me understand- 
ing of how Allan McLane and his like rode 
blindly and gaily, taking their lives in their hands 
and courting death with joy in their hearts. 

On we went at racing speed, mile after mile, 
with hardly a word uttered. Once, when my 
horse stumbled slightly, Mark spoke : 

“All right, Miss?” he asked a little anxiously. 

“All right, Mark,” I answered, and we went on 
as before. 

I had not the slightest idea where we were 
going or through what sort of a country we 
passed. Had I been familiar with it, it is not likely 
I would have recognized it, for there was naught 
to show the lay of the land. On we rushed, now 
through dense pine woods where our horses 
picked their own footing, then out for a moment 
427 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

into the open with broad fields on each side of us, 
then into the woods again, where naught was 
visible but the gray blue sky between the branches 
of the trees overhead. We climbed several hills 
without pause or slackening of our pace and 
rushed down the other side at the same break- 
neck speed. Once we forded a small stream, but 
I did not know we were near the water until we 
were in it and we were out again by the time I 
realized it. On, on, and the rush and rattle of 
it began to take on a sort of rhythm until I ceased 
thinking of anything and but listened to the music 
of our going. 

“Hurry! Hurry! Hurry !” That was the 
burden of all those many sounds that made up 
the rush and roar of our progress. 

“Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” The horses gal- 
loped it, the sabers struck out the words in unison 
and so did the panting men and beasts. 

“Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” My heart was 
beating to the same measure and I lost conscious- 
ness of all else, as we tore along, mile after mile, 
toward him for whose life I would have given my 
own. 

I came to myself with a start. 

428 


HURRY! HURRY! HURRY! 

“Halt !” was the command, and with a jangle 
of metal we stopped. 

“Now, men,” said the major, in an undertone. 
“No noise. We go at a foot pace and do not 
wish to warn those we seek. Forward.” 

On again we rode for perhaps half a mile. 
Here we dismounted and, tying our horses, went 
on foot for a quarter of a mile more until we saw 
the gleaming of a light through a window in a 
house set back a little from the road. 

I had moved ahead and was beside the major, 
who had Bill on his other hand. He said noth- 
ing when he saw me, but I do not think he 
thought the less of me for taking that ride. 

“Where is the hut?” he whispered to Bill. 

“ ’T is above the house,” was the answer, and 
we went on past the light till we discovered an- 
other faint gleam among the trees. 

“There it is, sir,” said Bill. 

“Surround the hut and take the men without 
a sound,” the major commanded in an under- 
tone, “and you stay back,” he added to me, which 
I did, for I could see no use in my incumbering 
the troopers, but I noted that Mark Powell stayed 
at my side. 


429 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


The men moved forward with drawn swords, 
till I lost sight of them. I heard naught, but of 
a sudden a broad light showed as the door of the 
hut was opened and I could see the dark forms 
of our men as they rushed in upon the unsus- 
pecting inmates. 

A moment later the soldiers came out, the ma- 
jor’s huge figure showing above the others, and 
all began to move stealthily toward the house. 
There was only Blundell to deal with now I felt 
certain, and beside, I could no longer restrain 
myself. In a moment I was with Allan Mc- 
Lane as he moved swiftly and silently toward the 
main house. 

We heard no sound as we approached and my 
heart began to beat with apprehension. Perhaps 
after all we were too late and Blundell had done 
his worst and gone. I would have run but I 
feared, as did the major, that in taking the man 
by surprise he might, in a last desperate effort, 
shoot John in sheer panic or revenge. 

And so we seemed to crawl forward, trying as 
best we could to pick our way in the darkness, 
and at last we arrived so near that we heard the 
sound of talking inside the house. 

430 



He leaned half across the table, putting his hand significantly 
on the pistol 



4 




HURRY! HURRY! HURRY! 

“Now that your man is gone I have no time to 
waste,” said Blundell, for I knew that voice too 
well to be mistaken. “I meant to give you till 
daybreak — well, I can't, now. Tell me, for I 'll 
not ask you again, where is the map ?” 

Then came John's voice and I thought I should 
drop with gladness at the sound. 

“I 've told you a thousand times, man, that I 
know naught of this map you talk of.” 

“And I know you have it,” Blundell burst out 
with wrath, and by this time we were at the win- 
dow and saw all that was within. 

John was seated before a table with his back 
to us, tied hand and foot to his chair, and before 
him, the glow from the candles lighting up his 
cruel face, stood Blundell, while on the table be- 
tween them lay a pistol. I was lost to all sense 
of my surroundings and knew not that Major 
McLane had left my side. 

“Am I to be balked after all the trouble I have 
taken ?” Blundell was saying. “I 'm not fooling 
now, Travers. Mark that. ’T is now the map 
or your life, I pledge you my word, for I 've gone 
too far to draw back. Will you give it to me ?” 

He leaned half across the table putting his 

433 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


hand significantly on the pistol as he looked at 
John, and so intent was he on the answer he 
awaited that the door was opened and he heard 
it not. 

It was like a play to me, as I saw Allan Mc- 
Lane enter behind Blundell, his pistol before him, 
so that he might forestall any dangerous move 
upon the other’s part, and John saw him too, for 
while the British officer menaced him with death, 
he suddenly threw up his head and laughed aloud 
at the top of his voice. This evidently hid the 
sound of Allan’s approach, for Blundell knew 
naught of it. 

“Oh, you laugh, do you?” he cried in a bitter 
voice. “You laugh, you insolent rebel! Well, 
we’ll have an end of laughing now,” and he 
would have lifted the pistol, but Allan McLane 
was upon him, and a great hand clutched him at 
the back of the neck and swung him around in a 
twinkling. 

“You dog!” cried the major, and his voice 
boomed through the house. “You dog! Fight- 
ing your private battles while you are drawing 
pay from his Majesty, King George of England! 
Were there many like you in his army, this war 
434 


HURRY! HURRY! HURRY! 

of ours would never have lasted a year. Dog!” 
he ended, and he flung Blundell from him into the 
hands of his troopers who had followed him in. 

And all the while John was laughing. Tied 
as he was to the chair, laughing as though he had 
never seen anything so funny in his life. 

“Well, what are you roaring at?” cried Mc- 
Lane, as he crossed the room to loosen Jack’s 
bonds. “There ’s naught funny about it, and if 
you *d been searching high and low for a man 
for nigh on six months, thinking him dead and 
then found him, would you laugh?” 

But this only made John laugh the more. 

“Oh, Allan,” he stuttered between his bursts 
of mirth, “if you could have seen yourself, tip- 
toeing in. Oh, oh! You are so big that Twas 
like a black bear dancing a minuet.” 

The major stood up with a great frown on his 
face as if he were much offended. 

“So that ’s the gratitude you have for me, is 
it? I look like a bear dancing a minuet, do I? 
Well, sir, suppose you sit right where you are 
until you get over your feeling of jollity,” and 
he walked toward the door, nodding to the troop- 
ers to go out and take their prisoners with them. 
435 


BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 


John, still tied, became grave in a minute. 

“Oh, I say, Allan,” he cried, “you ’re not of- 
fended, really? ’T was the finest sight I ever 
saw in my life when you stepped in at the door 
there. Come now, let me loose.” 

“Nay,” answered McLane at the threshold, 
“bears are bad hands at untying knots, and as 
for fine sights you ’ll see a finer one before you ’re 
loose,” he added with a great show of anger. 

“Have done with your fooling,” cried John, 
but McLane was out and at my side by this. 

“In to him,” he whispered in my ear, and thrust 
a knife into my hands. “I wager he won’t call 
you a bear, the ungrateful young puppy! But 
Bee,” he added, “he ’s all right I think, and not 
harmed by his confinement. ’T is good to see 
him, hey?” and all the love Allan McLane had 
for John Travers was in those words. 

He was still calling aloud for Allan as I en- 
tered the room and stood for a moment in the 
doorway. 

“Bee, is it you?” he said, in an awed voice, 
as if he were not sure, and then, being sure, he 
cried out to me. sin h, Bee, Bee, you have come 
back to me.” 


436 


HURRY! HURRY! HURRY! 


I crossed the room and cut the ropes and he 
was on his feet looking down at me with my 
hands in his. 

“What brought you here?” he asked a little 
tremulously. 

“Do you have to ask?” I answered, but hur- 
ried on. “They told me you were dead, Jack, but 
I would not believe them and came to America 
to find you. They were all sure you were dead, 
even Allan McLane, but when your piece of the 
lucky sixpence came to me — ” 

“Then you have it?” he cried. 

“Yes, Mark found it in your coat pocket,” I 
answered. 

“Then will you give it back to me?” he begged. 
“Don’t you remember, Bee, Admiral Howe said 
that when the pieces were again parted two 
should be made one?” 

“Yes,” I whispered. “I remember.” 

“And do you know now, what he meant?” Jack 
went on, his voice low and earnest. 

I could not speak, but nodded “yes,” looking 
up at him, and in my face he saw what I had no 
wish to hide, and so he took in his arms and 
kissed me. 


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